


The Wicked Stepmother

by seriousfic



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-08
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2017-11-18 06:20:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 38
Words: 117,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/557855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seriousfic/pseuds/seriousfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Evil Queen catches baby Emma along with Snow White, she decides on a new revenge. In Storybrooke, Snow White will be allowed to raise her daughter... but on her eighteenth birthday, Regina will come for her.</p><p>Emma might just enjoy that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Snow White heard her baby crying; it doomed her and it saved her. A minute ago, knowing she'd just begun twenty-eight years of separation from Emma, she'd have given anything to hear her little coos and cries once more.

 

But now that sound crawled inside her and wrenched her open. Snow White had sent her away with Charming. Why was he bringing Emma back? Was it even him? What was wrong?

 

Then Regina walked in and Snow knew: everything. She was holding Emma, rocking her like a born mother. The baby gurgled curiously. Regina paid her as much attention as a lap dog.

"You know, I will give you and Charming this. You have obscenely good genetics. Do you think baby Emma here will grow up to have your cheekbones? I can't imagine her any other way."

 

Snow opened her mouth to speak, but a quick gesture from Regina and a guard had slapped her across the face, his metal gauntlet bringing blood to her mouth.

 

"Yes, I know, I know," Regina said, all mocking sympathy. "Don’t hurt my baby, don't hurt my husband, kill me if you like. Do you really think it's about killing you at this point, though? I'm more about sadistic choices at this stage in my life."

 

The baby started crying again. Regina hummed disappointedly, then made another gesture. The guard ripped open Snow's dress, exposing her to Regina and her whole cadre. With a sniff of amusement, Regina pushed Emma into Snow's arms. "Give the little brat something to drink."

 

Mustering her dignity, holding her dress shut as best she could, Snow pulled Emma's mouth to her breast. Despite everything, she could take some comfort in how Emma quieted instantly, suckling peacefully at Snow like they were the only two people in the world.

 

"Look at me!" Regina demanded, her voice promising swift retaliation if Snow didn't. Snow shot her a hateful gaze. "You're going to miss the sadistic choice. And," Regina nodded to the window, the Cursed land that was stained in a way that reminded Snow of blood despite the purple color. "You can have your baby, in my new world. You can even have your husband. You won't remember— _you_ get to forget," and for a moment, Regina's voice was ruing, envious even, "but you'll be a family."

 

Snow refused to break down. If anyone else had promised that, if the lowliest serf had said as much, it would've brought tears to her eyes. She kept Regina fixed in her glare. "And?"

 

"And in eighteen years, when your darling child is as beautiful and fair as you or I was, I'll return. I'll take her from you. I will corrupt her to the marrow of her bones. And you won't even be able to warn her. You'll watch as I take my prize. Who knows. Perhaps you'll even approve of me, courting your little princess."

 

"And what's the choice?" Snow asked, not even letting herself think of what Regina had threatened.

 

"Well, I could just kill you now. And your husband. And your daughter."

 

The first sentence filled Snow with hope. Even the second left her with a little; he'd agree with her without a second's hesitation if it would protect Emma. But losing everyone, even if it would put them out of Regina's reach once and for all… no. No. "We'll take our chances."

 

Regina smiled. The Curse was at the door now. It seeped in through the door, as subtle as a dream shifting into a nightmare. "I knew you would. I guess I'm not much for sadistic choices after all. From here on out, I'll just take what I want."

 

* * *

 

It was Emma Blanchard's eighteenth birthday party and she was bored sick.

 

There was pizza, sure, and ice cream and… well, balloons. Perfectly fine for, like, Tuesday. But as soon as her _mom's_ party was up, she could go hang with her friends and have some _real_ fun. Instead, Mary-Margaret was threatening to watch Practical Magic with her like it was some kind of ritual, and she thought she saw Jonathan and her mom actually going over lesson plans. None of her real friends were here, it was all her parents' friends and people she was _supposed_ to be friends with, and she was twenty seconds away from just bailing. It'd probably take hours for anyone to notice.

 

"There's the birthday girl!"

 

Emma plastered a smile on her face as Mary-Margaret returned, bearing another guest to introduce her to. At least this one wasn't a thousand years old like most of her friends. In fact, Emma had seen her around town a few times, usually jogging in the mornings wearing a kinda-dorky, kinda-not-dorky-but-sexy spandex bodysuit. She was Emma's thinspiration.

 

And hearing her wish Emma a happy birthday reminded Emma of those town hall meetings Mary-Margaret occasionally dragged her to. She was the only interesting part of those too. The mayor. Regina Mills.

 

"Miss Mayor—Madame Mayor—" Emma wasn't sure what the protocol was. There probably wasn't a protocol. She wasn't the President, for Christ's sake.

 

Regina seemed to agree. "Ms. Mills is fine. Eighteen years…" She looked Emma over, her eyes seeming to suck in all of Emma's body—the breasts that had finally come in last summer, the legs that had sprung up two years ago, the hair that she'd stopped wearing in a ponytail so it could messily wrap around her shoulders. "It seems like only yesterday you weren't even as high as my vintage boots."

 

Emma blushed for no reason she could figure out. "Well, I've filled out a lot— _grown_ a lot," she corrected hastily.

 

"And how important that we take a moment to recognize that," Regina said as she stepped closer. For a mad instant Emma thought Regina was going to collide with her, but Regina just pressed a tiny gift box into her hands.

 

"Jewelry?" It was about the right size.

 

Regina slowly retreated from Emma's space. "It's not locked."

 

Emma wondered how long she should wait before ripping it open, then decided _that_ was long enough. The wrapping paper came clean off. It was a small box. Dumbly, Emma wondered if it was an engagement ring. She opened it. There was a key, on the key was the fob, on the fob were little buttons with car stuff on them.

 

"These are car keys," Emma said, in the same voice she'd muster to say "He's hot" if Hugh Jackman walked in without a shirt on.

 

"You need to start your car somehow," Regina said with a smile.

 

"I have a car?" Emma squeaked.

 

Regina nodded to the driveway. Emma raced out, nearly taking a header into her birthday cake before making the turn and hitting the front door. With it open, everyone could see the pristine '77 Chevrolet Camaro, black with purple racing stripes, freshly washed and bowed like a present.

 

Emma took tiny steps toward it, like she didn't want to scare it off, while Regina and Mary-Margaret stepped out onto the porch behind her. "You bought my daughter a car?" Mary-Margaret asked, voice gracious but brow furrowed.

 

"Hardly. It was time for me to buy a new car and I decided to give my old one away instead of letting some dealership lowball me. I am a little old to be tooling around in a muscle car, after all."

 

"I wouldn't say you're old."

 

"No, you wouldn't," Regina said smartly.

 

Emma finally reached the car. She put her key in the lock. It fit. The only noise she could conjure was a manly giggle. She opened the door and climbed it, fitting as awkwardly through the door as a square peg in a round hole. She finally got herself situated by the time Regina and her mother joined her. Regina leaned against the car, head through the window, while Mary-Margaret stood back.

 

"This is a _car,_ " Emma said, vibrating a little.

 

Regina smiled, understanding. A Subaru or a Toyota was fine. The looks of an overgrown shaver, but fine. But if you went far enough back, you dipped into a sort of ancestral memory of what a car should feel like. And nothing could feel more right than a car that fought back a little, responding to every pump on the pedal or twitch on the wheel, but with just enough sass to make you think it had a mind of its own. You had to earn a car like that.

 

"Emma, what do we say?" Mary-Margaret called, her arms crossed, her reflection on the hood.

 

Emma's face colored instantly. She wasn't a _child_ ; she'd been about to thank Regina. She just hadn't wanted to spoil the moment.

 

"Thank you, Mayor Mills," Emma said graciously, trying not to take her embarrassment out on Regina despite the sarcasm desperately trying to make its way through. "But… why?"

 

"Well, it is an election year, my sweet. And you are eligible to vote now." Regina turned her head, looking out the windshield along with Emma. "Now, how about a test drive?"

 

"Hell yeah!"

 

"Language!" Mary-Margaret said, striding forward as if intending to block the Camaro with her body. "And Emma only has a learner's permit, she can't drive."

 

"Mooooom!" Emma enunciated, biting off the vowel when she remembered Regina was in earshot. "My license is in the mail, it'll be here any day!"

 

"Nonetheless, until that time, you won't be driving alone. Not that your gift is unappreciated, Madame Mayor," Mary-Margaret added hastily, "my daughter will just have to be patient for now."

 

"What about the Mayor? She could drive with me."

 

Regina grinned bemusedly at the thought. Emma met her eyes and smiled back. She didn't know why. Mary-Margaret looked between them. The skin prickled at the back of her neck, like something was going terribly wrong but far beyond her reach or sight.

 

"Well, Ms. Blanchard?" Regina asked, facing Mary-Margaret now.

 

Mary-Margaret hesitated. "I don't think that's a good idea."

 

"Mom!"

 

"Emma is very inexperienced; the last time we went for a drive she hit a trash can. I'd like to teach her a few more things about the road before I let anyone else drive with her. I'm sure you understand."

 

"Of course," Regina said, her vowels clipped off in a painfully formal way. She laid her hand down on the hood, the long fingers pale strips of gold on the dark finish. Emma found her eyes drawn to those coyly curled fingers as they moved over the car as fondly as a lover's caress. "Another time, Emma. Perhaps when you get your license, you could come by my place and give me a ride."

 

Emma nodded like a broken bobblehead. "Cool! I mean, I'd like that."

 

"I'm sure you would." Regina took her hand away from the cool metal, catching it in her other hand. Emma imagined the chill of the metal fading between her fingers. It probably would've felt amazing to be touched by her. Like winter and spring all at once.

 

 _Where'd that come from?_ Emma wondered.

 

Regina was eyeing Mary-Margaret now, her back wholly turned on Emma. "Now then, tell me there's cake at this little gathering."


	2. Chapter 2

Emma had expected her boyfriend to jump at a ride in a genuine American gas-guzzler. Scott was always talking about how he planned to go sky-diving someday. But apparently going over 55 MPH only appealed to him when it was a mile off the ground. Nut.

 

Emma had had her car for a week, and her license almost that long, so she'd already learned how to put the Camaro through its paces. They orbited town like a satellite, going almost the same speed too, throwing up leaves with their velocity like a child splashing in puddles.

 

Scott held onto the oh shit handle like it was an oh free candy handle. "Do you have to go so fast?"

 

Emma's hands kneaded the steering wheel. "No, I don't have to. But I _can._ " Hands throttling the wheel, Emma spun them around a tight twist in the road. Scott whimpered a bit.

 

They'd been together since elementary school, where he'd been the only boy willing to keep pulling her ponytail after she clobbered Billy Finch. In middle school they'd been bros, Billy sneaking her his dad's beer and Emma bringing him her mom's lingerie catalogs. In high school, they'd made it official, going out to Sandra Bullock movies together and everything. There'd been some make-out sessions, he'd let her feel her up when those Sandra Bullock movies got steamy, but… her mother had this lecture about waiting for the right guy that her mind skipped to like a radio preset whenever he reached below her waist. It was total bullshit, but she was a virgin at eighteen. Fucking Maine…

 

Emma noticed Scott biting his lip like he was trying to keep from screaming. Trying not to take too much pleasure in his distress, the big baby, she grabbed his hand and pulled it onto her thigh. She was wearing a skirt.

 

"Hold on tight," she told him. "You wouldn't want to—"

 

" _Look out!"_

Emma's eyes darted back to the road. There was a car parked half a mile in front of them. She stomped on the brakes with videogame reflexes, but nothing happened. For two whole seconds, she was practically standing on the pedal, then the wheels locked and the Camaro slowed. Just in time to slap into the other car instead of smash.

 

Emma pulled herself out of the car like she was jumping out of a haunted house. She'd tested those brakes. They should've stopped in time. Her mom was going to kill her. How could this get any worse?

 

"Emma?" Regina stepped out of the woods, pulling her cell-phone from her ear. "Is everything all right? I thought I heard tires screeching."

 

Emma just moaned and sunk to her knees.

 

* * *

 

Emma apologized about a hundred times before Regina could calm her down. The coolest person in Storybrooke and Emma had nearly run her over. God!

 

"Now the important thing is that we're all alright," Regina said, briskly taking charge of the situation. She'd already seated Emma and Scott on a boulder beside the road and checked them for injuries. Of course, she'd also made Emma call her mom and explain what had happened. "It was really my fault. I didn't expect my new car to break down so soon. I never should've bought from Purdie Boot's used car lot."

 

"C'mon. It's my fault, Miss Mills. I wasn't exactly driving defensively."

 

"Ixnay!" Scott whispered. "Ixnay!"

 

"And who's this?" Regina asked, swinging her eyes over to him like a prison guard manning a searchlight.

 

"He's my—"

 

"I'm her boyfriend," Scott said, almost defensively. "Scott Willow."

 

"What a fine young man. You must keep Emma very happy."

 

"Well, yeah. I mean, she is."

 

"That's good." Regina nodded. "It's so hard for a young woman to ask for what she wants in this world. I'd hate to see our girl go unsatisfied."

 

Emma felt a sudden urge to ask Regina what she meant by that—it felt _layered_ , like when her parents had watched Dr. Strangelove as a little girl and all the jokes had gone over her head. But just then, Mary-Margaret's van came hurtling around the corner almost as fast as Emma's car had. It pulled to a stop well clear of the fender-bender and Mary-Margaret stalked out. Emma winced inwardly. This must've been what criminals felt when they saw the Batsignal.

 

Crossing her arms, Mary-Margaret regarded the three of them. After a brief, but intense glance at Emma, she turned her attention to Scott. "Scott Willow. I talked to your mother. She seems to think you can walk home and I happen to agree with her. You'd better get going if you don't want to miss supper."

 

"It's, like, two miles!"

 

"Good. You're having lasagna tonight. It has a lot of calories."

 

Regina quirked an eyebrow. "You'd better get going then."

 

Sensing he was outnumbered, Scott took off, remembering a few steps later to look back at Emma. "I'll text you."

 

"Yeah," Emma replied half-heartedly, in the hopes that if she played dead, maybe Mary-Margaret would pass up an easy kill.

 

Drawing out the torture, Mary-Margaret looked at Regina. "I cannot begin to express how sorry I am for this." Grabbing Emma's arm without looking, she pulled her to her feet and roughly handled her back towards the van. "I really thought Emma was more responsible than this. And I want to assure you that she will pay you back every cent of the damages if she has to flip burgers every waking moment for the rest of the year."

 

"God!" Emma pulled away from Mary-Margaret, her glasses sliding down her nose before she fixed them. "I said I was sorry, it's not like I killed anyone!"

 

"No. You crashed your new car. Into a parked car. That belongs to the woman who gave you your car!"

 

"Maybe I already feel bad about it, _Mom,_ you don't have to—" Emma stumbled over not saying the F-word. If it were anyone else… "rub it in!"

 

"Wow. Guilt. I didn't know you were capable. I'm sure that will pop her fender right back on."

 

"I'm going to pay her back, okay, but I'm not shoveling fries while some old manager guy leers at me. I'll take a few extra babysitting jobs, it'll take a while—"

 

"But you'll be able to hang out with your friends," Mary-Margaret finished. "Because that is what's really important, right?"

 

" _Yes!_ It's my senior year! I'm _leaving_! Dad would've under—"

 

"You will _not_ tell me what my husband would or wouldn't have done."

 

Emma just bit her lip and looked away. Mary-Margaret never understood. She thought she idealized him. But she remembered. He'd always tried to protect her.

 

"If I may," Regina began, stepping forward. With a blush, Emma remembered she'd been there the whole time. "It so happens that my estate's old gardener retired last spring and I'm ashamed to say that the vines and such have gotten a little out of hand. I could really use someone with a strong back to come by every week and help out. It's not hard work, just… sweaty." Regina looked in Emma's eyes at that word. Emma wanted suddenly to look away, but she didn't. "Perhaps Emma could work in my garden for the rest of the year. That'd give me time to find a replacement and wouldn't cut into her schedule too much."

 

"That'd work," Emma agreed. "I'm really good with plants, I mean, I am awesome. I grew one of those jar-potatoes for my sixth grade science project, it kicked all the other jar-potatoes's asses."

 

" _Lan_ -guage," Mary-Margaret reminded her sotto voce. She looked from Regina to Emma, noticing a nervous little smile on Emma's face. The girl was actually rocking on her heels a little bit for her savior. "Mayor Mills, thank you for the generous offer, but my daughter really needs discipline."

 

"Oh, I'm sure she does. But sometimes a soft touch gets the best results. My house is near the high school. Let's say we have the bus drop her off after school to spend an hour working the lawn. Afterward, I can even help her with her homework, as well as those all-important college applications. I certainly have more time to offer her than you do. And once I'm completely satisfied with her efforts, she can go spend time with her friends. You'd be surprised how important a strong social life can be in finding a career."

 

"It's not like you're ever at home anyway," Emma offered, shutting up when Mary-Margaret glared at her.

 

"I really can't ask you to make that sacrifice—" Mary-Margaret pleaded.

 

"No sacrifice at all," Regina countered. "I find your daughter a charming young woman, and I'd enjoy her company far more than having a gloomy old house all to myself. Please. I insist."

 

"Well… I'd expect her to be back for dinner, every evening."

 

"Of course."

 

"And," Mary-Margaret's voice lowered seriously, "I'd consider her safety your personal responsibility."

 

"What, does she have to baby-proof the wall outlets?" Emma asked incredulously.

 

"I promise, I'll take excellent care of your little girl." Regina put an arm around Emma and pulled her close. "I think we'll get along famously, won't we dear?"

 

Feeling Regina's body against her own and Regina's voice purring in her ear, the conversation coiled back around Emma. _I'm sure she does need discipline. But sometimes a soft touch gets the best results._ _It's not hard work, just… sweaty. I'd hate to see our girl go unsatisfied._ Emma felt her stomach twisting itself in knots. Must've been that second chili dog at lunch.

 

"Yeah. You can be like the cool aunt I never had."

 

"Alright," Mary-Margaret said at last, and Emma resisted the urge to cheer. "But don't let her weasel her way out of work just because she has puppy dog eyes."

 

Regina laughed and gave Emma a shove back toward Mary-Margaret. "Oh, I promise I'll be _very_ hard on her."

 

Emma's stomach was a balloon animal.

 

Putting a much-less-welcome hand on Emma's back, Mary-Margaret steered her into the van, thanking Regina twice for being so understanding. As soon as the doors were shut, she asked "And why didn't I hear anything about you driving off alone with Scott Willow?"

 

Emma groaned. Maybe her mother should've been spending some time with Regina. She could learn not to be such a drag all the time.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day flew by for Emma—Mary-Margaret giving her the stinkeye over breakfast, school, then a bus ride where she had to politely remind the driver she had a new drop-off point. She'd seen Regina's manor a few times before—mostly on Halloween, where a few sparse Jack-o'lanterns turned it into the background of a Scooby-Doo episode. In the day, it was house porn. The grounds were overgrown, but they weren't a jungle. All the weeds and wildflowers made it look like the Garden of Eden.

 

Emma had always figured Eden wouldn't be an orderly garden. It'd be wild and free.

 

On the long walk up the driveway, Emma groomed herself a little, gathering up her hair into a ponytail, adjusting her stockings, even putting on both straps of her backpack. All of a sudden she wanted to look her best for Regina. Maybe it was just the house, so intimidating in its near-perfection. Even it couldn't live up to Regina's impeccable fashion sense and general elegance, but it did throw her into stark relief. She was like the crown jewel of her own life.

 

Emma wanted to be, like, one of the other jewels. Maybe that ball thing royals had; with the cross on top? She rang the doorbell and was actually a little disappointed when Ruby answered it. Then confused when she saw what Ruby was wearing.

 

Emma was tempted to call it a "sexy French maid" costume right out of a Halloween party—or a strip club. Black silk formed a short skirt and a low-cut top. The skirt flared out like a tutu so Emma could see the black stockings Ruby had on, all the way up to black lace garter belts. There were starched white cuffs and a collar, a white apron, and even a little white cap perched on Ruby's hair (itself pinned into a wavy updo). All in all, Ruby looked like she should be on American Horror Story, making someone crysturbate.

 

"Oh, hey Emma," Ruby said, smiling warmly. "Regina said you'd be coming by. You want some tea or something?"

 

"Really? We're not even going to get into all this?"

 

Ruby looked down at her attire. "Oh, this. Well, I make some money on the side cleaning Regina's house and she lets me dress this way. She actually mailed me a set of jeans, but I think she's given up on it now. They were mom jeans."

 

"Okay. It's just for a minute there I thought I ended up at the Playboy Mansion by mistake."

 

"Thank you!" Ruby said sincerely. It was a dream of hers to have her own reality show, although not one where she slept with rappers or anything. More like her racing around the world and she just happened to be wearing a shirt tight enough to cut off circulation.

 

The thing was, Emma couldn't help compare her to Regina, who always looked so tasteful and buttoned-down and tempting, like a librarian who moonlighted as an burlesque dancer (which, according to all the magazines Emma read, was what men thought of as the perfect woman). And Ruby, for all her body-rocking, came off crassly. Regina would've dressed like she was auditioning for The Help and made it look like something Angelina Jolie would wear on the red carpet.

 

Emma had _idolized_ Ruby back in junior high, but now, she kinda wondered if Ruby didn't just have bad taste in clothes.

 

"C'mon, Miss R's in her office."

 

* * *

 

 

After finishing up a phone call, Regina invited Emma in and insisted she have a snack before getting started. Ruby's brought them ginger snaps and Sprite, and Regina smiled embarrassedly when Ruby's lean-in to serve broadcast her cleavage to the both of them. Regina solicited about how Emma's day had been and Emma gladly told her. It felt nice, just having someone ask her what was up and not expecting an essay. Mary-Margaret always grilled her at dinner, like Emma might spill the nuclear launch codes over green peas.

 

Finished with their snack, and hurrying to get away from Ruby mooning them as she dusted Regina's piano, Regina escorted Emma to the garden shed. It, at least, was in good repair from the last gardener, and Emma quickly proved to Regina that she knew her way around the various tools. She really was good with plants; she'd helped Mary-Margaret with her garden back before her mother had gone batshit over the possibility of Emma ending up on Teen Mom 3.

 

"Well, I suggest you start with the weeding," Regina said sweetly, handing Emma an angle hand weeder that would make it a breeze. Emma had begged her mother for one of those, but no, doing it by hand built so much frickin' character. "And if you need anything, just let me know."

 

"Will do, Mayor."

 

"Please, call me Regina. I think it's time for my hour of sun; I'll be on the patio if you need me."

 

* * *

 

 

Regina's backyard had six-foot-high hedges that hid it, and a goodly portion of her house, from the rest of her land. Emma decided to take that section first, killing anything that looked like a dandelion and stuffing it in the trash bag she dragged behind it. She was getting pretty into it, Zening out and letting her mind wander. It worried at her mother, and how much longer Mary-Margaret would be giving her the cold shoulder, and then flitted back to Regina.

 

_Oh, I promise I'll be very hard on her._ It was great how Regina had just… defused Mary-Margaret, finding a way for everyone to be happy (except for Mary-Margaret, since she was never happy). Emma hoped someone at college would be just like her. Maybe one of the teachers. She could go all Dead Poets Society on Emma. Or maybe Emma would visit Regina on break. Tell her mother she was going to Cancun and just stay at Regina's place. Watch old movies and drink wine. Regina could tell her how to kiss Scott. She always felt like she was doing something wrong.

 

She was almost finished, about to go inside to see if she could scam anymore ginger snaps off Regina, when the woman herself came out. She wore a loose silk dressing gown, the material nearly translucent, seeming to beckon Emma to try to look through it. The flesh underneath was…

 

Emma quickly concentrated on the next weed. God, she was perving on the _Mayor,_ what was wrong with her, why couldn't she crush on Michelle Obama like all the other girls?

 

Regina waved at her and Emma waved back, her hand doing a palsy-thing instead of the graceful acknowledgment Regina had perfected. Then Regina took her gown off, laying it ever so neatly across a patio chair. She sat down on a sun lounger, every inch of herself stretched out for the light.

 

Emma only allowed herself to look out the corner of her eye. All Regina wore was a bikini, the two-piece covering like garnish on a steak. The rest of her… in Emma's photography class, the school district was too cheap to hire models and too prudish to get them naked anyway. They had to make do with photographing volunteers from the class, which meant that Emma had wasted far more rolls of film than posterity could justify on Keisha T-shirts and jeggings. But Regina… God, Emma wanted to photograph that body every which way. Low-light, blinding light, silhouette, black and white. Under the bleachers, against a white background, in the woods, everywhere. She wanted a portfolio of Regina, proof to convince the harshest skeptic that a woman really could look like that.

 

Regina gave her neck a crack, did her fingers, and finally picked up a pair of sunglasses off the patio's dining table. She slipped them on like the finishing touch of the picture she was making of herself.

 

Keeping herself very focused on her work—seemingly—Emma craned her head just barely to the side. Her eyes took in the cute little toes on Regina's bare feet. She dared to tilt her head further, now taking in Regina's legs. They seemed impossibly long with Emma's gaze traveling up them second… by… second…

 

A glob of white liquid squirted onto them and Emma looked away hurriedly, pulling the next three weeds at record speed as if somehow she'd glazed Regina's legs with newfound psychic powers. When she finally looked back, she saw Regina was smearing suntan lotion up and down her calves. Completely ordinary and responsible. Emma looked away just as Regina's legs started to shine with the oil.

 

She pulled weeds and pulled weeds and pulled weeds. Quietly, efficiently—her mother would've been so proud. And when she looked back, it was practically by accident. A drop of sweat ran into her eye and stung, and as she wiped it away, she happened to look over at Regina…

 

As those hands traveled over her breasts, up her throat, over her cheeks like the caress of a lover. Emma had the feeling of being an intruder, stumbling upon a private moment—Regina in an moment of autoerotic pleasure. Then Regina's hands slid back down, over the tops of her breasts, applying the lotion with the lightest touch. Emma felt her mouth go dry. If she'd tried, she would've found it impossible to look away. Not that she tried, but…

 

Regina tugged her top a little ways down her cleavage. It was loose-fitting, the kind of thing that might come off at a quick pull. She spread the lotion over her areolas, almost to her nipples—almost letting Emma see them. Then she saw she'd gotten a dollop of lotion onto her top. Sighing, she moved to untie the knot in the middle, deciding to forego it entirely. Emma felt her breath hitch and couldn't imagine ever exhaling again.

 

Then Regina looked right at her. Her expression was impossible to make out with black glass blocking her eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry, Emma, I forgot you were there."

 

"No, it's… okay… don't mind me…" Emma tried to force a chuckle, but all that came out was a very hoarse cough.

 

Regina smiled graciously. "I know, it's just us girls, but if your mother knew, I think she'd run me in for corrupting a minor. She had such a fit about the English department at your school teaching Harry Potter. 'They weren't proper fairy tales,' something like that…"

 

"It could be our little secret!" Emma said desperately, and instantly regretted it. Beneath her poker face (which had been frozen on ever since Regina acknowledged her existence), she cringed.

 

"Maybe when we're a little better acquainted," Regina joked, and turned over with her top held to her chest. "I think I'd better do my back."

 

And what a back it was. Supple muscles, slender waist, and… a feature men were a fan of whose appeal Emma could very well understand. Regina's bottoms could've been mistaken for body paint at first glance.

 

And it all needed suntan lotion on it.

 

"I could—" Emma started, unintentionally coming out as a squeak. She cleared her throat, but before she could start again, Ruby came out with a tray of lemonade. Two glasses.

 

"Here's your drink, ma'am." She set one on the ground under Regina's lounger. "Need someone to get your back?"

 

"Mmm. Desperately. Emma?" Regina called suddenly.

 

Emma felt like she was going to pass out. "Uh… y-yeah?"

 

"Would you like a drink?" Regina offered as Ruby rubbed the suntan lotion between her hands.

 

"No thanks." Emma finally caught her breath. "I think I'm gonna do the rest of the yard."

 

On the other side of the hedge, Emma dropped flat on her face and just breathed. God. Shit, shit, shit. What was she doing? Regina was good-looking, but she wasn't _that_ good-looking. Okay, she was, but Emma didn't _care._ She was straight. She had a boyfriend. She had posters of Josh Hutchinson. So Regina was getting a tan? Good for her. It was probably just to stop her from getting Alzheimer's or something like that, not so she could give a teenager (a _girl_ -teenager) wet dreams. Fuck! If Emma kept this up, she'd find out which gay slur her name rhymed with. She was sure there was one. 'Blanchard'. That might as well have been gift-wrapped. It just _sounded_ like an euphemism.

 

"Do you mind if I remove my top?" Regina asked, the question drifting distantly through the leaves of the hedge.

 

Emma felt her head shoot up like a prairie dog's, despite the split-second realization that Regina wasn't talking to her.

 

"No problem there, boss. Just us girls, right?" Ruby replied.

 

Emma now knew what game show contestants felt like when they flubbed a million-dollar-question. That could've been her. She could be Regina's confidante… apprentice… friend… instead of just the stupid silly bitch who rear-ended her car.

 

"Oh, that's it…" Regina sighed, and Emma realized they'd started already. Her eyes darted to the hedge. She could just make out Regina, quivering under Ruby's strong fingers, the oil being lathered onto her shoulders. "And get my sides too, if you don't mind…"

 

Emma felt herself being pulled to the hedge as if her head had a magnet in it. And the leaves were magnets too. She nearly shoved her face in it as Regina leaned up, her breasts swaying under her, Ruby's long fingers running down the sides of Regina's body. They barely touched Regina… there. Emma suddenly developed a keen appreciation of Ruby's self-control. How could you _not_ want to touch those? They were just so… and they were really… and then there was just how _round_ they were!

 

"That feels good," Regina cooed, and Emma imagined she could see the shiver going down Ruby's spine. There certainly was one going down hers. "But… just a little lower. You missed a spot."

 

Emma knew what Regina was talking about. So did Ruby. Her hands traveled back up Regina's ribs, towards her—

 

Emma pulled herself away so hard she nearly gave herself whiplash. This was so wrong. Ruby was just helping Regina put on some suntan lotion and Emma was using simple skin cancer prevention like an issue of Maxim! What, had she been a teenage boy in a previous life? Gross. She'd helped her friends put on lotion plenty of times and there'd never been anything sexual about it. It was just something you did at the beach.

 

"And my lower back now?" Regina asked. Emma forced herself not to listen. There was work to do. She'd totaled Regina's car, after all. She owed her. She should be making it up to her, not… _whatever_ that had been. Almost viciously, Emma returned to tearing out weeds.

 

"God, you must have magic fingers, Ruby."

 

"Thank you, ma'am."

 

"Oh, I should be thanking you. Just work your magic on my thighs and I'll be absolutely _beholden_."

 

Emma heard herself groan. Okay. Just this once. Gently, her hands actually shaking a little, Emma spread the branches of the hedge and eased her head down to look through the hole she'd made.

 

Ruby was on her knees between Regina's legs (they were spread, Jesus Christ), her oily fingers 'working their magic' just below Regina's ass. Her hands moved with firm strokes; if she was nervous about touching Regina, she didn't show it. Maybe she had a lot of experience with it.

 

Emma heard another groan make its way up her throat.

 

"I need the oil between my thighs, Ruby," Regina said, her voice just barely carrying to Emma, and that was thanks to the wind. Her words were low. Intimate. "That's where I burn up."

 

"Me too," Ruby said, cheerfully oblivious to any double entendre. Her hands moved up Regina's thighs and then down between them, like she was spreading Regina's legs. If it weren't for the distance, Emma could've sworn that Regina raised her ass a bit.

 

"And I wouldn't mind a little inside my bikini, just to be on the safe side."

 

"Yes ma'am." Ruby's hands disappeared between their bodies. Emma involuntarily arced forward for a better look, but there was none to be had. She could just make out Regina's mouth. It seemed to be opening and closing. In pleasure, or was she just breathing…?

 

"Almost done," Regina said, breathing hard. "Rub wherever you think I need it. Anywhere you like."

 

At least, that's what Emma thought she said. It was hard to tell, with her voice so soft.

 

Did she hear Regina hiss in breath, like she'd just been touched somewhere sensitive, or was that just her imagination?

 

" _Lower_ ," Regina said.

 

Emma didn't notice she was leaning forward until she lost her balance and crashed through the hedge, displaying all the grace of a Bigfoot sighting.

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

Out of mercy, Regina didn't mention the possibility that Emma had been peeping on her. But it was hard not to notice that after that, she never tanned when Emma was over. Emma had mixed feelings about that. In the coming days, she pruned the hedges, revved up Regina's riding lawnmower, and learned how to trim back the roses.

 

Cultivated to Regina's exacting specifications, the estate became more imposing. And yet, the more Emma was there, the more familiar it was. Maybe she was becoming a vampire. Coming to call the twilight at Castle Regina home.

 

Oh Wednesday, the weather was all fog and drizzle, not at all like the sunshine she'd gotten used to working in. The tanktop Emma usually worked in now left her damp and shivering. She was already griping in her head about spending an afternoon rooting around in the mud. But, splashing closer to the front door, she saw Regina had it open. A much-abused welcome mat had been added to the austere porch. Emma wiped her shoes off on them, as an army must've done before her.

 

Regina appeared as if a switch had been flipped, carrying a towel that she threw around Emma without a syllable of greeting. "We're having such awful weather. I would've understood if you hadn't come by."

 

"Neither rain, nor sleet, nor snow," Emma quoted. She shut up as Regina wiped off her wet face. "It's fine. I've had worse summer jobs. At least it's not retail."

 

Regina bundled Emma up in the cloth like they were in Tehran. "I admire your work ethic, Emma. But I have something altogether different in mind for today."

 

The memory of Regina, next to nude and glistening with tanning oil, blew into Emma's mind like a summer storm. _My usual masseuse is out sick. You don't mind, do you?_ Stupid. It was raining. And Regina was a girl. God!

 

"As I hear it, you have a senior project coming due."

 

Emma had to stop herself from shaking her head. She was used to this treatment from Mary-Margaret. _Ve have vays of making you talk._ "It's just an essay. Nothing huge."

 

"Twenty percent of your final grade, Emma. An A or a C. What's it going to be about?"

 

"The trash island in the Atlantic."

 

"You mean the Pacific."

 

"It's trash. It floats."

 

Regina pulled the towel away so fast Emma wondered if she'd be naked underneath, like a magic trick. She wasn't. "Come with me."

 

As they walked, Regina dropped the towel into a hamper. Emma wished she could fit in so easily. Her tennis shoes squeaked on the floor, leaving wet marks. Emma felt like a little girl tracking in mud. She would've given anything to make Regina see her as a woman.

 

They passed many windows. The sound of the rain striking them lulled Emma out of her doubts. She found her eyes pulled to the muscles of Regina's back, working under the tight cloth of her Oxford shirt. It was a more casual ensemble than Emma had ever seen her in. The skirt barely reached her knees.

 

Emma was thrown out of her reverie by the creak of Regina opening a door for her. They were deep in the west wing of Regina's manor.

 

"Welcome to my library," Regina said, crooking her finger to usher Emma inward. Emma didn't hesitate. She followed Regina to a table and sat down in the chair Regina pulled out for her without a question. Regina patted her on the shoulder, then indicated a stack of books in front of her. "I've put together a little reading list on the subject. There isn't anything that's very detailed, I'm afraid, but it has to give you a few ideas."

 

Emma flipped through the first book. "This is perfect. Did you buy this for me?"

 

"No, I just had them lying around. These shelves hold over five hundred books."

 

"Wow." Emma looked around. The bookshelves towered like skyscrapers. Intimidating, but welcoming. "You must spend a lot of time on the can. Reading, I mean."

 

Regina took a moment to blink. "Actually, I have a Barcelona I prefer."

 

"I probably would too."

 

Regina's hand returned to Emma's shoulder. "But I did get the joke." Her fingers played at Emma's skin, flowing through the strap of her tanktop. If a cat was trying to decide whether to undress someone or not, Emma could imagine its touch being like that. Not that Regina would ever take so much as a stitch off her. "What have you got so far?" Regina asked.

 

"I have an outline," Emma said, feeling like she'd just confessed to a skin condition.

 

"Alright then, here's what we'll do. I'll fix us supper. You stay in here and write your paper. We'll eat presently. If you need any help, I'll be right next door. And neither of us will leave until we have this thing… licked."

 

Emma really wished Regina hadn't used that word.

 

* * *

 

 

Her introduction popped right out of Emma, but the rest was pulling teeth. Her teachers wanted everything in some lame, passive-aggressive style, like the people in the Star Wars prequels talked. She kept having to go back and express herself _worse_ , just to get a good grade. It was ridiculous. In three hours, she had two thousand words. The assignment was ten thousand words.

 

She wrote the same factoid fifteen different ways before a headache started in. It was one of those that got right behind her eyes and danced a jig in steel-toed boots. She tilted her head back in a failed attempt to relieve the pressure. A groan escaped her.

 

"Is something the matter?" Regina purred, and with a start Emma realized the Mayor was in the library with her.

 

"Just a headache."

  
"Perhaps it's time for a break."

 

"No, we already had supper. I'll just plow through like you would."

 

" _I_ would ask for help. And accept it." Regina took a seat beside Emma, her hand traipsing through Emma's hair as she slid past. "Now let's see about that headache. Take a deep breath. Hold it." Regina's hand hovered over Emma's skin, moving down to her stomach. Emma could feel its electricity.

 

Regina's hand stayed on her as she exhaled softly. Her belly sunk into her body. The pressure made it hard for her to inhale.

  
Too quick to process, the hand was over her breasts, under her throat. "Breathe," Regina told her. It didn't sound like a suggestion.

 

Emma's chest rose and fell, Regina's hand going with it. Regina watched avidly. A part of Emma wished her interest was more personal. She'd given up wondering why she thought that way sometimes.

 

"Your air flow feels very tense," Regina said concernedly. "When was the last time you got a massage?"

 

"Uh, never?"

 

"Oh, darling…" Regina's hand rolled in a circle on Emma's flesh. Emma tried to control her breathing before it pushed Regina's hand away. "I think I've been working you too hard."

 

"You can work me as hard as you like!" Emma protested.

 

Regina laughed. It sounded warm and deep, from far down in her body. "I wish more of my staff were like you. Here, tell me if this helps…"

 

Suddenly, her hands were on Emma's temples, the first two fingers gently rubbing away in small circuits. Emma felt her headache go on the fritz. "Yeah, that's good… maybe I could come work for you. After I graduate."

 

"Mmmm. Are you sure?" Regina worked her fingers in deeper, starting to dig her fingertips into Emma's skull. Emma's headache receded into the distance; she nearly moaned her relief. "I work some long nights."

 

"I'm a night person," Emma offered feebly.

 

"I'll keep that in mind." Regina stood, taking her hands away. Emma bit her lip to keep from protesting. "Do you still have a headache?"

 

Emma didn't, really, but she didn't want Regina to stop either. "A little one."

 

"I thought so. You have a lot of tension; it can't be easy, growing up in a single-parent household."

 

"My mom… tries," Emma said, defensive.

 

"I'm sure. But it can't be easy for her to understand you, can it?

 

"Like she'd want to," Emma muttered.

 

Regina smiled sympathetically. "I'd really like to deal with some of your kinks before you get any more stress."

  
"My kinks?"

 

"In your back," Regina clarified. "I've seen girls with your level of toxicity develop real health problems."

 

"Holy shit," Emma said, nearly clapping her hand over her mouth after realizing what she'd said to Regina.

 

Regina just kept on smiling, a little bemusedly. "Would you mind taking a break from studying for a proper massage? I learned how in college and I've never gotten to use my skills." She shrugged. "It was an easy credit."

 

Emma played it cool. "Whatever you think is best."

 

"What a wonderful attitude you have. I don't know what Mary-Margaret complains about." Regina took Emma's hand and led her inexorably to a window overlooking the backyard. Half-tamed and half-wild, the dew the rain had left made it look like a wonderland. She pulled the blanket off the window seat under the glass. "Now, just take off your shirt and lie down here. It's not as comfortable as I'd like, but it'll do in a pinch."

 

"Take off my shirt?"

 

"Unless you'd like me to do it through fabric." Regina pursed her lips suddenly. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize—it's fine if you don't want to, we can do it with your shirt on."

 

"No, no, it's fine. See?" Emma pulled her shirt over her head, not giving herself a chance to be self-conscious. "Let's get our massage on!"

 

Regina's mouth twitched in approval. "Indeed. I like your bra, by the way."

 

It said 'Boom' on each cup. Two years ago, back when she was an idiot sophomore, she thought it was sexy.

 

"It was a gift," Emma said quickly.

 

"Good to know you're friends with someone with good taste."

 

"I'm friends with you, aren't I?"

 

"Absolutely, my dear Ms. Blanchard."

 

Regina watched as Emma mounted the couch, pausing for a moment on all fours like some kind of model before she dropped down onto her belly. The way Regina beamed made her feel like she'd captured some kind of pride, gotten an approval she'd never gotten from teachers or Mary-Margaret. And why shouldn't her daring be as appreciated as a bunch of nerds making science projects? She was getting a bare-skin massage from Mayor MILF. Finally, something worthy of Texts From Last Night.

 

"Now you just wait there one moment," Regina said, poking a finger into the top of Emma's spine. "I think I have some oils from QVC around here somewhere. We're going to make you a brand-new woman."

 

Emma suddenly remembered Regina, covered with oil, basking in it. And now she was touching Emma. The teenager had to take a deep breath to keep from humping the seat cushion.

 

She was alone with her thoughts just long enough to rethink this, to decide on it again, when Regina returned. The sound of her heels clicking on the library's tiles seemed to drill into Emma. Funny. The massage was only making her more tense so far.

 

A few moments of Regina dithering and a stereo in the wall came to life, speakers around the room piping out a soothing melody from a string quartet. It sounded familiar, but Emma couldn't place it. The lamps were turned off, so the only light was the sun flowing through the overcast sky. Emma heard the click of a lighter, and smelled a subtle touch of incense from far away. Then Regina was at the window seat, diligently laying bottles of massage oil in front of Emma. They were all in exotic bottles, colored glass with stickers bearing exotic names.

 

"This is my own blend," Regina said, scooting a small green bottle close to Emma's face. "A little cocoa butter, some sesame oil, and a base of sweet almond. You're not allergic to nuts, are you?"

 

"No."

 

"Good girl."

 

Emma beamed, not that she'd done anything.

 

Regina took the bottle away. Emma heard it being uncapped, then a little swish of liquid as it was poured into Regina's cupped hand. A tink as it was set down, then a slow, sensual friction as it was rubbed into Regina's hands. They parted with a wet sound, then Emma _felt_ them, flat on her shoulder blades, shockingly warm. She almost cried out.

 

The smell was what surprised Emma the most. It was intoxicating. Sweet and dark, seeping through Emma's senses and lighting up her brain. It was like the scent of chocolate making you hungry, but Emma didn't know what this made her want. Yes she did.

 

"I should warn you, a massage can be _very_ intense, intimate even," Regina began, and was it Emma's imagination or was her voice lower, richer? "Even if it's only meant to be platonic. Even if it's between two women."

 

"That's, uh… I'll remember."

 

"What I want you to do, Emma, is completely dismiss the concept of sex from your mind. Pretend you haven't even heard of it. That you've never even been touched… you pure thing. The only hands that have touched you are mine." Slowly, like the first snowflakes of an avalanche, Regina's hands moved lower. They took their time. Spreading the glistening oil over bare millimeters. "There is no past. There is no future. There's no judgment or expectation. You're free of all that. There's only new ideas. New experiences. Can you see me that way, Emma? Not as how you see me now, but merely as someone who is touching you and bringing you pleasant sensations— _pure_ sensations?"

 

"Yes. Regina…" Emma couldn't raise her voice. It was trapped at a whisper.

 

"Good, Emma. Clear your mind. Close your eyes. Listen only to my voice. Feel only my touch. I'm feeling a lot of tension in your body. Especially _here_." Regina's fingers ran along the strap of Emma's bra. "I'd like your permission to take it off."

 

"Of course. Anything."

 

"You're very open-minded. That's a lovely trait in someone so young."

 

With the ease of a knife entering butter, Regina opened the bra hook and set the straps to Emma's side. Although Emma would still characterize herself as PG-13, she felt impossibly naked. It was wonderful.

 

Without that clunky old thing in the way, Regina's hands could go anywhere. And they did. "What I'm doing now is just touching you, and letting myself be felt. All your attention is on my hands. All your concerns are secondary to this feeling. It's funny, isn't it… such a simple, human thing as being touched, yet we go days without it. Without being hugged… or held… or kissed…"

 

Regina's hands felt too good. She was right. It was so natural to be touched, yet if Mary-Margaret caught Scott doing something as innocent as this to her, there'd be hell to pay. Regina reached the hollow dimples at the base of Emma's spine, dipping into them before returning to the sensitive skin she'd left in her wake. Emma moaned in pleasure, then her eyes jolted open as the sound echoed in her ears. Christ, had she just…?

 

"It's alright," Regina said with a chuckle. "It's supposed to feel good. Relax. No one here is going to judge you. It's just me, after all. Little old me…"

 

"You're awesome," Emma muttered, her eyes closed again. She felt herself being drawn into a curious state: too awake to sleep, like she was on a caffeine high, yet with the peace and solitude of dozing off on the couch on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

 

Regina made a pleased hum as her hands rolled back up Emma's strong back. "What I'm doing now is stimulating your blood's circulation. Just like a healthy bout of exercise would, without the lactic acid that would accumulate in your system. Your blood is racing all through your body. It's being returned to your heart, being purified and cleansed. The toxins deep below your skin are being drawn by the motion of my hands, carried away by the motion of your blood and destroyed by the harmony of your body. When you get up, I promise you, it's going to feel like you've slept for a week."

 

"Thank you…"

 

"Don't thank me yet. We're far from done. Now, I want you to take a deep breath. I've placed incense around the room; can you tell me what scents I've selected?"

 

"Yeah, umm…" Emma took a whiff. "Lavender…"

 

"Deeper, Emma. Fill your lungs. It's what they were designed for, after all."

 

"Okay." Emma inhaled again, deeper this time. She could detect something mingling with the lavender. "Lilacs?"

 

"Yes. It enhances feelings of calm. And fertility."

 

"Don't think I need that…"

 

"Maybe it's more for me," Regina teased. "Another deep breath. I've been touching you very lightly so far. That can heighten sensation."

 

"I like it."

 

"Now I'm going to be firmer." Regina's hands bore down on Emma, the new pressure seeming to bring her body to sudden gasping life. Emma's eyelids fluttered, but she remembered Regina's words, letting the sensation enter her, fill her. "The long strokes I make are connecting the many facets of your body, placing them all in harmony with the others. I need you to tell me if there's any part that you want me to touch. That's your body telling you what's not in harmony."

 

"Just… lower."

 

"Here?" Regina asked. Her hands were flowing to just inside the waistband of Emma's jeans, but it wasn't enough.

 

Emma said so.

 

"Lower?" Regina asked, and her voice was so deep, so soothing.

 

"Yes."

 

Emma felt her pants being drawn down. She raised her hips so Regina could do it. And Regina just kept pulling, taking her pants down, down, down until they were being helped off her feet. Lying there in nothing but her panties, Emma felt like she was about to get a spanking.

 

She expected Regina's hands any moment, but instead—a liquid swish as Regina got more oil. The anticipation physically pained her. Everything she felt was heightened, more powerful, more primal. She needed more of it. She needed more of her body to belong to Regina, being filled with pleasure that felt so secret, so… her own.

 

"Ooh!" Emma cried out. Regina had touched her, alright, but not with her hands. Her elbows and forearms were coming down on Emma's ass, massaging it roughly.

 

"Too rough?" Regina sounded amused.

 

"Fine. It's fine."

 

"I know. I like it a little rough too." Regina went lower, now brushing Emma's lower buttocks with the sides of her hands. Emma wondered if that was a technique, or she just wanted to avoid using her open palms on what Emma's momma gave her. She wished there was a way to tell Regina it was okay to touch her bathing suit area without being really creepy.

 

Her hands finally came back to press down on the backs of Emma's thigh. It was an area that went untouched, and the sudden flurry of contact made Emma feel like kicking her little feet. Regina's fingers, masterful and strong, dug into the flesh of Emma's legs. They prodded, they pulled, they rolled, they pinched. Emma's face seeped down into the cushion, the shock of Regina elbowing her butt completely evaporating.

 

Finally, Regina came to Emma's feet. She didn't even bother to ask before she pulled Emma's shoes off, followed by her socks. For long minutes, she just seemed to play with Emma's feet, flexing and stretching Emma's toes, sliding her thumbs up the grooves between the bones, and then a seemingly endless succession of pleasant sensations that Emma couldn't even qualify.

 

It was almost a surprise to feel herself getting aroused, her suddenly hard nipples rubbing at the cushion under her with every breath, but then it was also the most natural thing in the world. Regina's hands moved upward, playing the receptive muscles of her calves like the keys of a piano, and Emma felt certain they could only be traveling to her sex.

 

"I should've asked earlier," Regina said, her voice so soft Emma wouldn't have been surprised if it were coming from her own mind. "Are there any particular aches or pains in your body? Something you want me to massage? Something you need me to rub?"

 

"Legs," Emma said. She felt like a ventriloquist dummy perched on Regina's lap, telling her exactly what she needed to hear as those amazing hands glided over the backs of her knees. "My thighs."

 

"Spread them."

 

Emma did. She couldn't do anything else.

 

After what seemed like an eternity, she felt Regina's fingers lightly fall on the inside of her thighs. Just the tips, not any real pressure. They moved, just a little, and Emma knew she was being _felt._ Then they truly went into motion, moving in tiny circles, pulling Emma's flesh in a gentle orbit. Emma felt her breath, so relaxed and serene for the past few minutes, now start to quicken.

 

"I can feel a lot of tension here. I may need to really grind down to get at."

 

"Yes, yes, anything."

 

The little circles Regina was making became wider and deeper, more of her fingers settling on Emma's flesh until her hands were dug between them. Emma's toes curled as the pleasure from Regina's touch reached them. Her hands shrunk into fists. The feeling was almost painful in its intensity. But she liked the pain.

 

"Breathe," Regina reminded Emma gently. Her hands seemed to be flowing up Emma's thighs, getting higher with each tiny motion.

 

"Can't…"

 

"Am I hurting you?" Regina asked, her hands starting to slow…

 

"No!"

 

"Perhaps the tension isn't there…"

 

Regina's hands moved away, but before Emma could protest, Regina touched her. There.

 

It was just a brief contact, the back of her hand brushing against the crotch of Emma's panties. Regina had moved away before Emma had even reacted, as if she hadn't even noticed, and now her hands were back in the gentle slope between Emma's back and her ass.

 

But Emma realized now that she was wet. Very wet.

 

"Here it is," Regina said, almost teasingly, as her fingers lightly brushed from the base of Emma's spine to the top of her ass. "Yes. Your sacrum has all sorts of pressure on it."

 

"My—"

 

"Sacrum. It's a bone nestled at the base of the spine. From the Latin word 'sacred'. Divine." Her fingers moved faster, and Emma felt her breath running away from her. Her eyes were open. She couldn't shut them. Off to the side, she could see a painting against the opposite wall. Nymphs and satyrs, frolicking through the woods. Naked.

 

Regina was oblivious, or pretending to be. "Did you know the pudendal nerve originates in the sacrum? It innervates the genitals. Do you know what that means?"

 

"It… I…" Emma was trying hard not to come. So hard. She was trying to think of a way to get Regina to stop (she didn't want her to), to excuse herself (she wanted to keep going), without admitting how turned on she was. She couldn't think, she couldn't breathe (she needed to come), she could only keep holding back her orgasm until this stopped feeling so good.

 

"Shh. Don't think too hard. That'd be missing the whole point. The pudendal nerve supplies the nerves to the genitals, so it stimulates orgasm. That makes it a very powerful erogenous zone. Something to keep in mind the next thing you're with your boyfriend. What was his name again?"

 

"S… S-s-s…"

 

"There I go again. Asking you to think. But why? What's there to think about when this feels so good? All you have to do is _enjoy it._ "

 

How could she be so close and not come (she had to come)? But she was. She was on the verge of coming and she couldn't stop (and she wouldn't stop) and Regina was watching her, would watch her come. It made Emma feel so dirty. She liked being dirty.

 

She loved being dirty.

 

"Enjoy it." The simple phrase echoed in her head as if Regina had just whispered it in her ear. Maybe she had. Emma was past caring.

 

Her climax literally exploded within her. Something wet and hot escaped her, warming her on the way out, like electricity jumping through a circuit. She felt her panties become leaden and moist, her mouth falling open in a silent scream. It wasn't that she was able to hold back anything. It was just that not a sound could escape the black hole of pleasure that Regina had started within her. Everything fell into it. Every embarrassment, every taboo, every doubt. She came like never before. Like it had never felt before.

 

Regina brought her hands back from Emma's overworked pleasure nerve, smiling at the flawlessness of it all. What luck that her arch-enemy's child had grown into such a lovely creature. Regina had enjoyed the orgasm almost as much as she had.

 

"I think I got the kink out," Regina said mildly.

  
At the sound of her voice, Emma's eyes snapped open. She realized where she was. What had happened. Regina had given her a friendly massage and she'd squirted all over the love seat.

 

"Oh god." Emma tried to move and a little aftershock of pleasure went through her. "Oh _god."_  Perhaps angry at not having been touched, her pussy was now a throbbing _hunger_ , demanding a repeat performance. She'd had the back massage. What about the front?

 

"Is everything alright?" Regina asked. She made her voice as sweet as sugar. "You feel good, right?"

 

"I, uh… I have to go! I just remembered, I have a date, I have to go." Emma's hands fluttered about, not sure which part of her to cover first. She suddenly remembered to do up her bra. "I need to go, right now, so sorry!"

 

Emma rolled off the window seat, grabbing her pants from the floor and pulling them on, not caring that they were backward. Her shirt was next, then her shoes, no time for socks. She popped up with Regina still standing over her, far too close for her sex to ignore. The urge to just grab her and _rub together_ was overwhelming.

 

"Of course, I understand. Do you need a ride?"

 

Emma nearly fainted. "No, I'll walk, I should walk!" She ran out of the room, hoping Regina hadn't noticed the rapidly growing wet spot on the front (back) of her pants.

 

Regina waited until Emma had left the room to laugh. The girl had left her books behind. She'd be back. But then, even if Regina put in a moat full of crocodiles, Emma would be back. Regina had seen to that. Men, women… you didn't just have a fuck like that and _lay off._

"Keep in touch," she whispered after the departing teen, cracking her neck. A kink seemed to have gotten into it, her having been bent over Emma for the last hour.

 

Perhaps her own massage was in order. She'd have to call Ruby. And undress.


	5. Chapter 5

Strong and insistent hands pulled Emma close. Almost before she could feel their touch, warm lips were against her own, a tongue pushed into her mouth. It felt good, but so weird. The hands slid down to crush themselves against Emma's ass, pulling her further into their owner's reach. Her body was responding, but not in the right way. It felt like she was short-circuiting. This was wrong somehow. She tried to push the thought away; this couldn't be wrong. She touched back, her hands groping and massaging—not as forcefully as her lover, more experimentally. It all felt so… different.

 

But that was nonsense, right? What was she expecting? What else would Scott feel like?

 

"We should stop," Emma said, pulling away. She tried to catch her breath. It was far easier than when she'd left Regina's library the other day, wet panties rubbing against her every step of the way home.

 

Scott's hands kept running over her like he was looking for something. Regina's had been so nice, so gentle, fitting to her body like they were molded for it. And Scott's were just… rough. Like they were made of sandpaper.

 

"I said _stop_!" She gave him a shove and he broke off, immediately pouting.

 

"You said we 'should' stop, girls always say they should stop."

 

"How would you know!" His hand under her shirt had jammed it up over her belly. She pulled it down, straightening it until the band logo on the front was unwrinkled. Going over to Scott's place had been meant to make her forget about Regina, now all Emma could do was think of how perfect she was. If Regina were a guy… goddamn.

 

"We've been going out for four months," Scott said, consciously trying to keep his voice from a whine. "And I'm still on second base. I've gotten way too familiar with your tits, babe."

 

"Maybe you can go without them for a while, huh?" Grabbing her jacket, thinking of how Scott had taken it off so clumsily when Regina had been so sly just giving her a massage, Emma stomped her way to the door. She tried to make her boots loud enough for Scott's parents, off at a book club meeting, to hear her.

 

She stopped in her car to update her Facebook status. Scott didn't come after her to apologize. _Why do boys think they have a backstage pass just because they bought a ticket?_ She considered changing her relationship status to It's Complicated, but didn't. It wasn't complicated at all.

 

Regina, reading Emma's Facebook from her laptop, decided to change it for her.

 

* * *

 

Going to the movies with Ruby had nothing to do with Regina. Emma told herself that until she half-believed it. It was just that they were sorta co-workers now. Co-workers spent time together after work. Ruby had asked if she wanted to go out, her treat, so… free movie. It had nothing to do with Ruby being Regina's friend, student, confidante. Emma had no interest in how they'd gotten so close, or how close they really were. None. Whatsoever.

 

The cinema was about the only cool thing about Storybrooke. It was an old-fashioned movie house, with a triangular marquee above the door and one guy with a hat in a booth selling tickets and popcorn that was popped in a cart and sold in cartons instead of by the tub. Totally vintage. It didn't show movies in 3D, but nobody liked 3D anyway.

 

"I don't know about you, but I've been waiting, like, forever to see Snow White And The Huntsman Part 2: The Evil King," Ruby babbled, looking stunning as usual in daisy dukes and a silk print shirt with a grand total of two buttons done up, right where the male population would most like them undone. "The first one just left me with so many questions. Does she end up with Prince Charmant or the Huntsman?"

 

"Probably the Huntsman. His name's in the title," Emma speculated. She wore jeans with the knees worn out and a similarly holey tee under her well-loved/battered leather jacket. _I look like Ruby's bodyguard._

They paid the box office dude, who gave them the senior rate because Ruby was so willing to demonstrate she wasn't a senior. Tickets in hand, they got popcorn, Coke, and Milk Duds so expensive Emma wouldn't be surprised to find cocaine inside the box. Then it was just waiting in line to get their tickets torn. The guy behind the podium was trying to decide if three acne cases were old enough to see Final Destination: Skull Dump, so it was going to be a long line.

 

"Are you a big K-Stew fan?" Ruby asked.

 

"Nah, she's a bit slutty for my taste."

 

"Hey, that director thing was not her fault! He was a _director._ "

 

"It's not even that, it's the RPatz thing too. They work together, they should keep it in their pants. I mean, who has sex with a co-star?" Her phone buzzed. Emma checked it and groaned. "It's my mom. I'm gonna text her a picture of you, just so she knows I'm not being penetrated. Smile."

 

Ruby struck a lapdance pose on a nearby standee of Tom Hanks on a bench advertising the 3D rerelease of Forrest Gump. Emma wasn't sure it would convince Mary-Margaret of anything.

 

Finally, they made it past the velvet rope and to their seats. Fortunately, it was a Kristen Stewart movie that didn't have Edward Cullen, so the theater wasn't at all crowded. They got there just in time for millionaires to tell them how much the Will Rogers Institute needed working-class charity. Ruby sent one last text and turned her phone off. Emma did as well, vindictively thinking that there was no way her mom could resent her not answering her phone in the middle of a movie.

 

The previews came on. New Tron movie—what hacks were doing that?—new Wolverine movie—even in the trailer he had his shirt off, so Emma's ticket was bought—new Spider-Man movie—Ruby would make a better Mary Jane than whoever they'd hired. They were even making another Alice In Wonderland movie. Good God, what kind of loser wanted to watch a purportedly sexy Mad Hatter prance around a green screen for two hours? Where was this whole dark fairy tale thing going to end, anyway? Porn?

 

Someone moaned. _Amen, bro,_ Emma thought. Then he groaned, which seemed like a bit much for the trailer to Monsters Inc 2. Sure, it wasn't an Incredibles sequel, but what was?

 

"Is it just me, or is someone having a heart attack?" Emma asked Ruby.

 

"No, just a handjob."

 

"A _what?_ "

 

"I know, right, _handsies_? What are we, twelve?"

 

"Who gets a handy during the trailers? Those are the best part!"

 

That last annoying 'turn off your cell phone, retard' message played and the movie started. Thor told them how, shockingly, everything wasn't beer and roses after Kristin Stewart was put in charge.

 

"Oh hell yeah," Rosie Palms' date muttered. Was he going to get tugged on through the whole movie? Wouldn't there be chafing?

 

Ruby read her mind. "That is taking a while. Isn't she throwing in some ball action?"

 

"Why don't you go ask?"

 

"Fuck!" Mr. Beaten Meat finally gasped. He almost sounded like…

 

"Scott?" Emma turned around and saw him there, just four rows back, revealed in the bright lake of a Kristen Stewart close-up. And the woman sitting next to him: "Mommy?" Of course it wasn't, just someone who looked like Mary-Margaret might've in the 90s, she didn't even have short hair. But it was just the kind of surreal detail you'd find in a nightmare.

 

"Emma, this isn't what it looks like!"

 

"Oh, she's just eating yogurt as a finger food?"

 

"I don't even know her, she just sat next to me on the bus this morning and started… I mean, she was all over me! I didn't even want to go see a movie!"

 

The girl wiped her hand on Scott's shirt. "This your prude girlfriend?"

 

Emma didn't know where to begin with that, so she skipped to the end. "I'm not his girlfriend."

 

She ran out. After a dumbfounded moment, Scott put his arm around the girl. "So where were we?"

 

She brushed his arm away like it was a spider web she'd walked through. "Bored."

 

Effortlessly untangling herself from Scott, the girl left the theater before Kristen Stewart could bite her lip anymore. She went directly to the restroom, where she scrupulously washed her hands clean. Only then did she take off the thimble she'd acquired, returning to her natural form. It'd been such a relief to find this world had magic of its own, meager as it was. Adjusting the clothes that had rumpled during her stint as a teenage girl, she left the restroom.

 

"Oh, hey there. I didn't know you were seeing a movie tonight," one of the ushers greeted her.

 

She held up her ticket. "I hope you don't think I would sneak in, Mr. Skeen. I am the Mayor, after all."


	6. Chapter 6

Emma ran all the way to Regina's house. She got there with her lungs burning and her legs made of molten lead, but she felt like she could keep running forever. Out of this goddamn town, away from crappy boyfriends and crappy mothers. Oxygen flooded into her body the moment she stopped. She felt lightheaded. Not a runaway now. Now, she might just float away. If it weren't for the thought of Regina tethering her.

 

Emma knocked at the door, but no one answered. Regina had to be there—her car was in the driveway, engine still warm. Emma wanted to pound on the door, knock it down, throw herself through a window into the safe place. But what if someone else heard? Emma couldn't _survive_ breaking down on the front perch where the world could see, and she knew she would. She could feel the tears burning in her eyes already. She tried the door in desperation; it swung open freely. Emma nearly fell inside. She managed to close the door behind her.

 

Just being inside the manor was comforting. Everything was so stylish and sophisticated. Light-years beyond small-town boys getting jacked off in movie theaters.

 

"Regina!" she called. Her voice echoed back to her, all cracks and heartbreak. From then on, she kept silent as she wandered the halls.

 

The last room she checked was the bedroom. Regina wasn't in any of the others. Emma half-expected to find Regina in there with a man, someone as charming and beautiful as her. It was that kind of day.

 

She tried the door. It swung open as easily as everything was with Regina. The Mayor was inside, in bed, propped up on pillows and reading a book. She even had a fashionable pair of glasses on. And all that hid her from Emma was a filmy nightgown.

 

"Emma?" Regina laid her book facedown beside her. "What are you doing here? Is something wrong?"

 

That was all Emma could take. She was crying and sobbing and cursing, all the words Mary-Margaret would wash her mouth out for saying, and all she could hear through her own grief was Regina's voice. "Emma, come here. _Come here."_

Like a master ordering around a dog, expecting to be obeyed. Emma felt her legs carrying her to Regina, betraying her to the Mayor, and she madly thought Regina would slap her or hit her for her foolishness, because she was foolish, a foolish little girl, thinking Scott loved her, thinking Regina could love her. She braced herself, but Regina opened her arms. Like a ship caught in a whirlpool, Emma was sucked down. She felt herself hit Regina's impenetrable exterior and be embedded in it, given all the protection of it, strong arms wrapping around her and holding her tight. Everything was the softness of Regina's gown and the warmth of her skin.

 

"What's wrong?" Regina asked, whispering so no one else could hear, even when they were alone.

 

Emma told her the whole lurid story, even as it ran together in her mind. As she was gently rocked, she told Regina about what had happened in the theater. And she stayed in Regina's arms, slowly getting comfortable, pulling her arms and legs onto the bed, her body into Regina's lap. Telling Regina how she'd met Scott, how they'd gone on their first date, how she thought he'd be her first.

 

"He wasn't, was he?" Regina asked as she gave Emma a little squeeze in her embrace. Letting her know it would be alright either way.

 

"No. He wanted to, but it just didn’t feel… right."

 

"Good." Regina unwound an arm from Emma's back, over the teen's fervent and silent protest, but it was only to bring her hand to Emma's hair. Gently running her fingers through it: "It will feel right someday. But your first time is a special experience. Meant to be shared with someone who sees the specialness in _you._ You're a precious gem, Emma. As beautiful as you are rare. It won't be hard for you to find someone who truly values you. It will just take patience."

  
"It doesn't feel that way. It feels like no one even sees me."

 

"I see you, Emma." Regina twisted a lock of golden hair around her finger, lightening the mood somehow. "Do you know what's happening to your body right now?"

 

"My heart's breaking in two?"

 

Regina lowered her voice sympathetically. "Besides that." She rubbed her hand between Emma's shoulder blades. "Right now, your brain isn't releasing enough serotonin. There's too much stress on your body right now for it to keep up. Not without help."

 

"You mean… vodka?"

 

"No. I don't mean vodka. You see, just being held by me, being touched by me, is releasing beta-endorphins reversing all that. And you'll feel even better after a good night's sleep, when your brain has time to normalize. So I want you to lie here, close your eyes, and try to get some sleep."

 

"And you'll keep touching me?" Emma asked. All of a sudden, she felt so tired that it took her a moment to realize what she'd said.

  
"If you like. Or should I stop?"

 

The door flew open and Emma bolted upright, grabbing the bedsheet to cover herself even though she was fully clothed. But it was just Ruby stampeding in. "Emma, there you are! I've been looking for you everywhere! You ran out of the theater so messed up, I thought you might do something… dumb."

 

Emma dropped the sheet. "I'm not going to commit suicide over Scott Blue, Ruby!"

  
"I was thinking more along the lines of vehicular homicide."

 

"Ruby," Regina said calmly, smoothing Emma's hair like they were absolutely alone. "Emma isn't feeling well. I'd like you to brew some of my good tea and bring it here."

 

"Sure thing. You hang in there, Emma. Don't worry about a thing, we'll take good care of you." Ruby left. The door swayed almost to a close behind her. With her gone, Regina traced Emma's hair down to her back. Which she felt, right through Emma's jacket. "Would you like to take that off? Get comfortable?"

 

Emma consented before remembering what had happened the last time she'd undressed for Regina. She hesitated, one arm out of its sleeve. Regina just smiled. She exerted a gentle hold on the jacket's battered leather and tugged until it was off. Compared to the jacket's heft, wearing just her T-shirt was like having nothing on at all. The look on Regina's face seemed to see right through it as well. Under that gaze, Emma lowered herself back to rest on Regina's body. Regina's hands pressed flat, possessive, along Emma's spine. Emma grew used to the weight of them in only a second. Then they moved up and down, rolling over Emma's back like the tide. Even with Ruby in the house, Regina's touch was more daring, more intense. Or maybe it was _because_ Ruby was there. Predators. Outnumbering her. Cornering her. Hungry for her flesh.

 

"You're a very trusting soul," Regina whispered, her breath barely stirring Emma's hair. "Falling asleep in a stranger's bed."

 

"You're not a stranger."

 

"Aren't I?"

 

"No. You're, like, my best friend."

  
"Please. I'm old, virtually decrepit. You must have friends your own age."

 

"'Please'," Emma mimicked. "If I asked them to get into bed with me and rub me down, they'd call me a dyke."

 

"And what's so bad about being a dyke?" Regina asked, her voice sweetly sinuous.

 

Emma panicked. Was one of Regina's loved ones a d--homosexual?

 

She didn't even like that word, it was the other kids that used it.

 

"I don't know," she stammered. "I've never tried it."

 

Regina gave Emma a little pat and reached for the bedspread, pulled back alongside them. "Here. Under the covers." She drew the sheet over them both. It helped. Emma felt less exposed, cuddled up with Regina. Snug as a bug in a rug.

 

Underneath the covers, Regina's hands were as subtle as shadows. Emma couldn't hear or see them. She just felt them, on the back of her neck now, leisurely stroking from her throat to her shoulders like Regina had all the time in the world… to explore. When they met in the middle, at the nape of Emma's neck, it felt like her head was being tilted toward a kiss that never came.

  
"What about your mother?" Regina asked considerately. "Surely she'd come as a comfort."

 

"I don't think I can even look at Mary-Margaret right now without thinking of that slut. They could've been twins. And if I told her, she'd probably tell me it's proof I'm too young to date."

 

"Mothers never notice how mature their daughters are. I'm sure you're old enough for many things Mary-Margaret wouldn't approve of."

 

"Yeah… wanna smoke some pot?" Emma joked.

 

"One thing at a time, dear."

 

As gently as she would handle the Dead Sea Scrolls, Regina rolled Emma's shirt up from her waist. With about an inch of untanned skin exposed, one hand continued the work and the other skated over Emma's lower back, skin against skin. Emma felt her shirt rise higher. Cool air meeting her flesh. With the added room, Regina now dug her fingernails into the small of Emma's back and raked them down to just above Emma's ass. It felt exquisite.

 

"Maybe Scott was too young for me," Emma thought out loud. "I need someone more mature. Experienced."

 

"Perhaps." The back of Emma's shirt was now being held back by the front, still plastered across her belly button. Regina took it in both hands and tugged insistently. With just that little prompting, Emma lifted herself off Regina, just enough for her shirt to travel. Their eyes met. "My first time wasn't _his_ first time. And it was marvelous."

 

"His…" Emma said, holding herself over Regina even as the shirt reached her armpits, hanging around her neck like a life preserver.

 

"And the first time I made love to a woman, she wasn't very knowledgeable either, but I knew what I wanted from her." Regina kept her hold on Emma's shirt, now pulling down on it like a set of reins, bringing Emma back against her body. "And got it."

 

It took Emma opening her mouth to speak to realize she was breathing faster than usual. Settling back against Regina's body, she felt Regina's heart beating with the same harmony. "And she… had fun?"

 

"Of course she did," Regina replied, amused. "Just look at me."

 

Regina's hand came to Emma's cheek. It was shockingly intimate, the touch. Even during the massage, Regina had never gotten so close… to her lips.

 

Emma lay still while Regina's fingers, sly and insinuating, ran over her cheekbones. "I'm almost as beautiful as you," Regina said. Emma would've protested, would've said _no one_ was as beautiful as the Mayor, but the fingers touched her lips. They breezed over them like a breath of air. Stopped in the middle, as if seeking admittance, but Emma was too stunned to even breathe. And the fingers descended, off her chin, down her long, smooth neck. Turning her sideways now, her hand moving in circles on Emma's sternum, just shy of Emma's breasts, almost returning to her lips.

 

Emma shivered with excitement. She fought to keep her voice steady. "You're bi… bi… bike-sexual?"

 

Regina laughed warmly. Her hand dropped down. To Emma's belly, brushing it with her knuckles, almost tickling the girl. "I prefer to think of myself as… open-minded."

 

"I can't believe you told me that. This isn't… college! People would care."

 

"I trust you," Regina said, raising her hand again. She ran the side of her finger under Emma's bra, her fingernail making a soft noise against the material. "We have something in common."

 

Emma was about to ask what it was when Ruby burst back in, a tea tray in hand.

 

"Order up!" she said, setting it on the nightstand. She poured into two cups. "And if you give me a minute, I can even put on my waitressing clothes."

 

Regina smirked. "Or take a pair of scissors to the clothes you have on now."

 

For some reason, that sent a jolt through Ruby's body. She swung the teapot around too fast and knocked a tea cup off the tray and off the nightstand, down to shatter on the floor.

 

"Oh, Mayor Mills, your china! I'm so sorry!"

 

"That's alright," Regina said, her finger following Emma's bra like a cat with a string. She circled around Emma's side and for some reason the skin there was so damn sensitive. Emma felt herself hotly blushing, but maybe Ruby just thought it was from crying earlier. Regina was undressing her right in front of her BFF and she was letting it happen, maybe they both were, maybe all three of them. "Your punishment can wait until later," Regina teased, voice lilting.

 

Emma actually laughed as she felt Regina's fingers slide under her bra hook.

 

"It's getting late." Regina took a cup of steaming tea, her other hand steadily batting at the hook, pulling it away from Emma's skin and letting it bounce back, still connected, over and over again. "And someone here doesn't have a car. Ruby, call your grandmother and tell her you're staying over. Then phone Mary-Margaret and tell her Emma's having a sleepover with you."

 

Ruby glanced around like she was looking for Granny, and a lecture. "You want me to lie to Emma's mom?"

 

"No, you're telling the truth, just leaving out the location. We've been nice all week. We deserve a girls' night."

 

"It's okay," Emma said, "she's right." Supporting Regina as the woman pinched either side of her bra hook together, exposing the eyelets and hooks, ready to rip it away. A reward?

 

"Okay," Ruby nodded, backing out of the room. "I'll be right back to clean up the mess. Don't get out of bed."

 

"We won't," Regina assured her, smiling confidentially with Emma. She took her hand away, leaving Emma with her bra strap fully intact, snug against her suddenly-itchy back. It made her just… bite her lip. Wanting something else. "Here."

 

Her voice startled Emma out of her reverie. Regina had picked up the tea cup and was now holding it under Emma's nose. The scent was strong, but not overpowering. More like… a bouquet of fresh flowers, in a vase on the other side of the room.

 

"It smells good," Emma said, her hand shaking as she took hold of the tea cup. Regina held onto it as well, playfully keeping it from Emma's grasp. "What is it?"

 

"Herbal tea. From the mother country." Regina winked. "Back home, there's a legend that if two people in love drink it, they'll share a single dream."

 

"Glad I don’t have to worry about that. Scott probably dreams about sexy nurses."

 

Regina looked bemused. "Drink." She ushered the cup to Emma's lips. "It'll help you sleep."

 

Emma blew up on the hot tea. The steam seemed to whip back immediately after she'd exhaled, twice as thick. "Maybe we should wait for it to cool down."

 

Regina reached inside Emma's pants pocket and put a hand on Emma's thigh. "It's best when it's hot."

 

"And I'm not a big tea drinker."

 

Her hand on Emma's thigh exerting a gentle pressure, Regina pulled the tea away from Emma and brought it to her own lips. She tilted the cup slowly, delicately, and Emma had to strain her eyes to see the rich brown liquid lap at Regina's mouth. Her lips parted minutely, letting just a sip in before Regina lowered the cup. She swallowed, exhaled, licked her lips, her eyes closed through the entire process. Regina's body seemed to heat up with the warmth of the tea.

 

"It's a very good brew," Regina said. "Are you sure you wouldn't like any?"

 

"Maybe… a little…"

 

Regina had a wide smile as Emma took a sip. "That's the spirit. Never be afraid to try new things."

 

The taste was intense, something like honey and caramel, almost sickeningly sweet but then just the right amount of something else, with an almond-bitter aftertaste. And it did taste good warm. Not hot. Warm. A languid, summer warmth, like sweat in the sun. It eased down Emma's throat, down to her belly, and even lower—spreading through her whole body.

 

"Drink some more," Regina insisted, tilting the cup back so Emma had to drink. And she did. It tasted so good, the perfect counterpoint to the way Regina was stroking her thigh. Everything was warm and blurry, like a pleasant dream. Like none of this was real. It was all just a bedtime story. She hadn't broken up with Scott. She'd never even dated Scott. She'd always been with Regina, here, now, touching her and being touched by her. Drinking expensive tea and sharing secrets.

 

"You have such beautiful skin," Regina said, her voice low. Just for Emma. "Such a beautiful young body. I wish I had your body. But for now, some more tea."

 

Regina was touching Emma with both hands now. Her other hand was back at the bra hook, like Scott had tried to do so many times, but Regina had it open in one go, the eyelets and hooks separated but Regina's hand still holding it together. It still felt so much better than having the hook done up.

 

And it meant only Emma was holding the tea cup. She felt dizzy as she lifted it to Regina's perfect lips, reverent as she tilted it so Regina could drink. She watched Regina swallow, her throat working beautifully.

 

"Ahhh," Regina breathed. "That tea is good, isn't it? We must thank Ruby later."

 

"After she's punished," Emma tittered. It didn't sound like her voice, but that was okay. She liked this new, strange voice.

 

"Yes. After she's punished. Set the tea cup down, dear. It's all gone."

 

Emma let go of the tea cup. It landed on Regina's body, rolled off, and ended up on the bed beside them. A remnant of tea spilled out onto the bedspread, as dark as dried blood.

 

Emma giggled. She was liking this new voice more and more. It was like another person was speaking for her. Someone fun and adventurous and exciting. Someone who never got cheated on or grounded, who always knew what to say.

 

"I think young miss Emma is ready for bed," Regina said magnanimously, gathering up the cup in her slender fingers and setting it by the bed.

 

"Yes she is," Emma slurred. "But I have to get undressed first. My jeans…"

 

"Oh, we'll let Ruby take care of that." Regina's hand left Emma's pocket flap, patting her ass now. "No need to get up. She's very good at undressing."

 

Emma reached for the tea again before remembering it was all gone. She needed to be drinking something. "It's a little cold in here."

 

"Yes, it is. Put your arms around me, dear. I'll keep you warm."

 

Emma slipped her arms around Regina's waist. "What was in that tea?"

 

"Fairy dust. And ginseng."

 

"Mmmm. Can I take some home?"

 

"Certainly."

 

"I still have my shirt on, don't I?"

 

"Yes you do."

 

"Can you help me? I'm really tired."

 

"It would be my pleasure, Emma."

 

Shifting herself vertical, feeling Emma held upright against her body, Regina took hold of Emma's shirt and pulled it over the girl's head. It left her hair a mess, scattered everywhere, and Regina gathered it up and smoothed it out before she lowered herself back down to the pillow.

 

More importantly, she let go of Emma's bra. Its two halves dangled from Emma's back, skittering across her spine. Emma exhaled majestically. Sweet relief, having that pressure gone.

 

Regina started touching Emma again, tenderly rubbing where the bra had cut across her back cruelly. "Does that feel good, Emma?" she asked, knowing the answer.

 

"Uh-huh."

 

"Then I should keep touching you. Touch you more…" Her warm, loving hands slid across Emma's back unimpeded. They went all the way to the sides of her chest, where being caught between Emma and Regina's bodies held the bra in place. The tips of her fingers, so tentative and yet so sure, brushed just the very outer reaches of her breasts. Barely enough for Emma to know she'd been touched at all.

 

" _Wow_ ," Emma moaned at the furtive little brushes, urging them on almost subconsciously. Her body was tingling. She didn't know if it was the tea or the touching. Or maybe just something inside herself. "Oh!" Regina had rolled them over suddenly so they were both on their sides, facing each other.

 

Suddenly, Emma could see all of Regina again, and the sight was enough to take her breath away. Regina was a vision, a goddess, her glasses put aside, her hair loosely cascading across her shoulders, one strap of her nightgown fallen away to allow the gown to falter, just clinging to her chest like a man hanging off a ledge by his fingertips. Through it, Emma could see the swell of her breasts, the sinfully red color of one hardened nipple.

 

And all Emma could do was worry. Her mother's daughter. "Ruby… will be back any minute…"

 

"No, she won't," Regina said confidently. "It's just us. Only the two of us in the whole world." Regina splayed her hand on Emma's belly. Her jeans were riding low, exposing the lace of her panties, and Regina's fingertips landed right on the elastic band. It felt like electricity was coming off them. "We can do whatever we want. What do you want to do, Emma? What do you want _me_ to do?"

 

"Touch me," Emma said, her mouth dry. "I want you to touch me."

 

"Where?" Regina asked mercilessly. She dipped her hand just a little lower, brushing her fingers over the waist of Emma's jeans. The belt loops were bent out of place as Regina's fingers traveled. "Here?"

 

"No…" Emma was nervous even as she felt herself squeezing her thighs together, trying to relieve the pressure gathering between them. She knew Regina would let it _all_ out, make her explode like she had during the massage, but she couldn't—she just couldn't…

 

Regina was so understanding, it was like she was reading Emma's thoughts. "Higher then?" Her hand eased upward, the pressure at Emma's groin falling away but somehow the feel of Regina's hand crawling up her belly was even more intense, like a fire was sweeping through her body wherever Regina touched, a good fire, warm like a fireplace in the winter.

 

"Hi-gh-er," Emma trilled, her voice slow as molasses. Regina's hand obediently came up to her breasts, still covered by her undone bra. Barely The fingers came together, narrowing Regina's hand into a bullet, and she shot it under the bra, between Emma's breasts. It was an area that Emma hadn't even touched herself, not even when she masturbated, and it was unbearably sensitive. Regina's hand, rubbing up and down in the valley of her cleavage, the sides of her hands just nudging her breasts away, it was perfection.

 

"I think you like being touched there," Regina observed archly, her fingers lapping at Emma's skin like a cat's tongue.

 

"It's… alright…" Emma confessed. Her voice, the stranger's voice, was like one continuous yawn. She was relaxed, and the night air was exciting on her body, and Regina's touch was wonderful. Everything felt so different that it was barely like being in her body at all. Like she had floated away from her body, leaving it with Regina.

 

"What else would you like?" Regina whispered, a conspirator. "For me to come closer?"

 

The word seemed incredibly small as it slipped from Emma. "Yes."

 

Regina rolled them over again, more gently this time, almost letting Emma fall into place. Emma slid onto her back, the bra falling away somewhere in the sheets, and Regina mounted her. Her leg ended up between Emma's, the knee shoved up inside her thighs, but Emma barely even noticed. It was just another can of gasoline thrown into the inferno her body had become.

 

"Here?" Regina asked, bringing her hand up again, fingertips dancing in the hollow of Emma's throat, the heel of her hand pressing down firmly on Emma's burning breasts.

 

"Nooo…" Emma moaned. "Closer."

 

Regina laid down on top of Emma, their bodies slowly merging. Last of all, their breasts met. Emma felt Regina's nipples against her own, as hard as hers. On one side, she felt the satiny covering of Regina's gown. On the other, nothing but skin.

 

"Am I close enough now?" Regina asked, the heat of her breath on Emma's cheek.

 

"Not even… a little bit..." Between the pleasure and the sleep overtaking her, Emma couldn't open her eyes. She just let the other voice, the other her, speak.

 

With her free hand coiling under Emma, Regina suddenly pulled them together, crushing Emma's body to hers. Everywhere on Emma's skin, she felt Regina's warmth.

 

"How about now?" Regina demanded, bending her head to Emma's like a king offering his ring to a subject.

 

Emma knew what she had to do. Her body was screaming it at her. Her sex was wet, her skin hot, her inhibitions elsewhere. More by touch than by sight, she opened her mouth to Regina's soft lips. It wasn't like with Scott at all. It was slow, unhurried. At first, Regina just brushed her lips against Emma's, even when Emma opened her mouth. Then Regina applied the pressure, bringing their lips together with greater force so they were crushed together from head to toe, like fire meeting ice, their kiss a way for the steam to escape.

 

Regina made the kiss harder, harder, _harder_ , demanding more from Emma, forcing her body to respond down to the innermost core. Emma gave willingly, opened herself as far as she could, but all Regina wanted was the kiss. She plundered Emma's mouth, not letting Emma up for so much as _air,_ and Emma felt her hands hovering over her body, almost touching but _not,_ tracing her from her moist cunt to her quivering breasts, finally stopping at her face, holding her still for more of Regina's passion. They kneaded her temples as Regina kissed her, twirled her hair, and Emma started making _sounds._ Weak, needing, _hungry_ sounds deep within her body. She knew Regina could hear them; the Mayor smiled against her mouth and went on kissing her.

 

Regina pulled away slowly, with one last suckle at Emma's swollen bottom lip. Then she licked her own lips, tasting Emma on them.

 

"Fuck," Emma mewled, nearly asleep and about to come. She was so aroused, so goddamn _horny,_ and yet there was a serenity to it, a safety. Regina had her. She was Regina's. Nothing to worry about. She could go to sleep if she wanted. And she was tired. Very tired… "Fuck me."

 

Regina came down again, lowering her lips almost to Emma's but not quite, and Emma didn't have the energy to lift herself that one little centimeter to Regina's wet, open lips. "In time, my sweet." Regina enjoyed torturing Emma with the feel of her breath against Emma's lips. The girl moaned almost painfully. It was delicious. "You must sleep now. You need your rest."

 

"Need to come," Emma begged once more, the words barely more than mouthed. "Come so bad…"

 

Regina rolled onto her back, cruelly depriving Emma of her heated body. God only knew how cold Emma must've felt in that instant. "I know, dear. And you will soon enough." Mercifully, she dragged Emma back to her, resting the girl's head on her breast.

 

Emma couldn't fight anymore. She lost herself in the endless warmth of Regina's flesh and sleep took her at last.

 

Regina stroked Emma's hair, pleased with her conquest. She really did have a lovely body. "Sweet dreams."


	7. Alternate Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this is not a new chapter, this is an alternate version of the last chapter. As I was writing it, I decided it wasn't in keeping with the story so far or how I planned for the story to go. It just strayed too close to that line between dirtybadwrong and just plain wrong. This story is essentially smut, so Regina has to be naughty, not criminal. Most of this chapter ended up in the one I could laughingly refer to as 'canon,' so I can't reuse the concept for another project, and for a first draft, I still do like aspects of the execution. It's just that I think that most of the readers are seeing themselves as Emma, going "I wish Lana Parrilla had seduced me when I was 18-years-old," and this would be liable to ruin that fantasy. You could even say that it's somewhat triggery. So if you don't want to read it, just pass on through to the next chapter, but if you're interested in an OOC fuckfest, or just a deleted scene produced by my process, enjoy.

Emma ran all the way to Regina's house. She got there with her lungs burning and her legs feeling like they were made of molten lead, but she felt like she could keep running forever. Out of this goddamn town, away from crappy boyfriends and crappy mothers. Stopped, oxygen flooded into her body. She soon felt lightheaded. Not a runaway now. Now, she might just float away. If it weren't for Regina tethering her.

 

Emma knocked at the door, but no one answered. She had to be there—her car was in the driveway, engine still warm. Emma wanted to pound on the door, knock it down, throw herself through a window into the safe place. But what if someone else heard? Emma couldn't _survive_ breaking down on the front perch where the world could see, and she knew she would. She could feel the cracks in her heart, the tears burning in her eyes. She tried the door in desperation; it swung open freely. Emma nearly fell inside. She managed to close the door behind her.

 

Just being inside the manor was comforting. Everything was so stylish and sophisticated. Light-years beyond small-town boys getting jacked off in movie theaters.

 

"Regina!" she called. Her voice echoed back to her, all sniffles and heartbreak. From then on, she kept silent as she wandered the halls. A shade.

 

The last room she checked was the bedroom. Regina wasn't in any of the others. Emma half-expected to find Regina in there with a boy, someone as charming and beautiful as her. It was that kind of day.

 

She tried the door. It swung open as easily as everything was with Regina. The Mayor was inside, in bed, propped up on pillows and reading a book. She even had a fashionable pair of glasses on. And all that hid her from Emma was a filmy nightgown.

 

"Emma?" Regina laid her book facedown beside her and whipped off her glasses. "What are you doing here? Is something wrong?"

 

That was all Emma could take. She was crying and sobbing and cursing, all the words Mary-Margaret would wash her mouth out for saying, and all she could hear through her own grief was Regina's voice. "Emma, come here. _Come here."_

Like a master ordering around a dog, expecting to be obeyed. Emma felt her legs carrying her to Regina, betraying her to the Mayor, and she madly thought Regina would slap her or hit her for her foolishness, because she was foolish, a foolish little girl, thinking Scott loved her, thinking Regina could love her. She braced herself, but Regina opened her arms. Like a ship caught in a whirlpool, Emma was sucked down. She felt herself hit Regina's impenetrably warm exterior and be embedded in it, given all the protection of it, strong arms wrapping around her and holding her tight. Everything was the softness of Regina's gown and the greater softness of her skin.

 

"What's wrong?" Regina asked, whispering so no one else could hear, even when they were alone.

 

Emma told her the whole lurid story, even as it ran together in her mind. As she was gently rocked, she told Regina about what had happened in the theater. And she stayed in Regina's arms, slowly getting comfortable, pulling her arms and legs onto the bed, her body into Regina's lap. Telling Regina how she'd met Scott, how they'd gone on their first date, how she thought he'd be her first.

 

"He wasn't, was he?" Regina asked as she gave Emma a little squeeze in her embrace. Letting her know it would be alright either way.

 

"No. He wanted to, but it just didn’t feel… right."

 

"Good." Regina unwound an arm from Emma's back, over the teen's fervent and silent protest, but it was only to bring her hand to Emma's hair. Gently running her fingers through it: "It will someday. But your first time is a special experience. Meant to be shared with someone who sees the specialness in _you._ You're a precious gem, Emma. As beautiful as you are rare. It won't be hard for you to find someone who truly values you. It will just take patience."

  
"It doesn't feel that way. It feels like on one even sees me."

 

"I see you, Emma." Regina twisted a lock of golden hair around her finger, lightening the mood somehow. "Do you know what's happening to your body right now?"

 

"My heart's breaking in two?"

 

Regina lowered her voice sympathetically. "Besides that." She rubbed her hand between Emma's shoulder blades. "Right now, your brain isn't releasing enough serotonin into your body. There's too much stress on your body right now for it to keep up. Not without help."

 

"You mean… vodka?"

 

"No. I don't mean vodka. You see, just being held by me, being touched by me, is releasing beta-endorphins reversing all that. And you'll feel even better after a good night's sleep, when your brain has time to normalize. So I want you to lie here, close your eyes, and try to get some sleep."

 

"And you'll keep touching me?" Emma asked. She'd been lulled so close to sleep that it took her a moment to realize what she'd said.

  
"If you like. Or should I stop?"

 

The door flew open and Emma bolted upright, grabbing the bedsheet to cover herself even though she was fully clothed. But it was just Ruby stampeding in. "Emma, there you are! I've been looking for you everywhere! You ran out of there so messed up, I thought you might do something… dumb."

 

Emma dropped the sheet. "I'm not going to commit suicide over Scott Blue, Ruby!"

  
"I was thinking more along the lines of vehicular homicide."

 

"Ruby," Regina said calmly, smoothing Emma's hair like they were absolutely alone. "Emma isn't feeling well. I'd like you to brew some of my good tea and bring it here."

 

"Sure thing. You hang in there, Emma. Don't worry about a thing, we'll take good care of you." Ruby left. The door swayed almost to a close behind her. With her gone, Regina traced Emma's hair down to her back. Which she felt, right through Emma's jacket. "Would you like to take that off? Get comfortable?"

 

Emma consented before remembering what had happened the last time she'd undressed for Regina. She hesitated, one arm out of its sleeve. Regina just smiled. She exerted a gentle hold on the jacket's battered leather and tugged until it was off. Compared to the jacket's heft, wearing just her T-shirt was like having nothing on at all. The look on Regina's face seemed to see right through it as well. Under that gaze, Emma lowered herself back to rest on Regina's body. Regina's hands pressed flat, possessive, along Emma's spine. Emma grew used to the weight of them in only a second. Then they moved up and down, rolling over Emma's back like the tide. Even with Ruby in the house, Regina's touch was more daring, more intense. Or maybe it was _because_ Ruby was there. Predators. Outnumbering her. Cornering her. Hungry for her flesh.

 

"You're a very trusting soul," Regina whispered, her breath barely stirring Emma's hair. "Falling asleep in a stranger's bed."

 

"You're not a stranger."

 

"Aren't I?"

 

"No. You're, like, my best friend."

  
"Please. I'm old, virtually decrepit. You must have friends your own age."

 

"'Please'," Emma mimicked. "If I asked them to get into bed with me and rub me down, they'd call me a dyke."

 

"And what's so bad about being a dyke?"

 

"I don't know. I've never tired it."

 

Regina gave Emma a little pat and reached for the bedspread, pulled back alongside them. "Here. Under the covers." She drew the sheet over them both. It helped. Emma felt less exposed, cuddled up with Regina. Snug as a bug in a rug.

 

Underneath the covers, Regina's hands were as subtle as shadows. Emma couldn't hear or see them. She just felt them, on the back of her neck now, leisurely stroking from her throat to her shoulders like Regina had all the time in the world… to explore. When they met in the middle, at the nape of Emma's neck, it felt like her head was being tilted toward a kiss that never came.

  
"What about your mother?" Regina asked, considerately. "Surely she'd come as a comfort."

 

"I don't think I can even look at Mary-Margaret right now without thinking of that slut. If she cared in the first place. If I told her, she'd probably tell me it's proof I'm too young to date."

 

"Mothers never notice how mature their daughters are. I'm sure you're old enough for many things Mary-Margaret wouldn't approve of."

 

"Yeah… wanna smoke some pot?" Emma joked.

 

"One thing at a time, dear."

 

As gently as she would handle the Dead Sea Scrolls, Regina rolled Emma's shirt up from her waist. With about an inch of untanned skin exposed, one hand continued the work and the other skated over Emma's lower back, skin against skin. Emma felt her shirt rise higher. Cool air meeting her flesh. With the added room, Regina now dug her fingernails into the small of Emma's back and raked them down to just above Emma's round little ass. It felt exquisite.

 

"Maybe Scott was too young for me," Emma thought out loud. "I need someone more mature. Experienced."

 

"Perhaps." The back of Emma's shirt was now being held back by the front, still plastered across her belly button. Regina took it in both hands and tugged insistently. With just that little prompting, Emma lifted herself off Regina, just enough for her shirt to travel. Their eyes met. "My first time wasn't _his_ first time. And it was marvelous."

 

"His…" Emma said, holding herself over Regina even as the shirt reached her armpits, hanging around her neck like a life preserver.

 

"And the first time I made love to a woman, she wasn't very knowledgeable either, but I knew what I wanted from her." Regina kept her hold on Emma's shirt, now pulling down on it like a set of reins, bringing Emma back against her body. "And got it."

 

It took Emma opening her mouth to speak to realize she was breathing faster than usual. Settling back against Regina's body, she felt Regina's heart beating with the same harmony. "And she… had fun?"

 

"Of course she did," Regina replied, amused. "Just look at me."

 

Regina's hand came to Emma's cheek. It was shockingly intimate, the touch. Even during the massage, Regina had never gotten so close… to her lips.

 

Emma lay still while Regina's fingers, sly and insinuating, ran over her cheekbones. "I'm almost as beautiful as you," Regina said. Emma would've protested, would've said _no one_ was as beautiful as the Mayor, but the fingers touched her lips. They breezed over them like a breath of air. Stopped in the middle, as if seeking admittance, but Emma was too stunned to even breathe. And the fingers descended, off her chin, down her long, smooth neck. Turning her sideways now, her hand moving in circles on Emma's sternum, just shy of Emma's breasts, almost returning to her lips.

 

Emma shivered with excitement. She fought to keep her voice steady. "You're bi… bi… bike-sexual?"

 

Regina laughed warmly. Her hand dropped down. To Emma's belly, brushing it with her knuckles, almost tickling the girl. "I prefer to think of myself as… open-minded."

 

"I can't believe you told me that. This isn't… college! People would care."

 

"I trust you," Regina said, reaching down. She unbuttoned the fly of Emma's jeans. Emma didn't move a muscle. "We have something in common."

 

Emma was about to ask what it was when Ruby burst back in, a tea tray in hand.

 

"Order up!" she said, setting it on the nightstand. She poured into two cups. "And if you give me a minute, I can even put on my waitressing clothes."

 

Regina smirked. "Or take a pair of scissors to the clothes you have on now."

 

For some reason, that sent a jolt through Ruby's body. She swung the teapot around too fast and knocked a tea cup off the tray and off the nightstand, down to shatter on the floor.

 

"Oh, Mayor Mills, your china! I'm so sorry!"

 

"That's alright, we can share," Regina said, starting to tease Emma's jeans from her waist. Emma felt herself hotly blushing, but maybe Ruby just thought it was the tears. Regina was undressing her right in front of her BFF and she was letting it happen, maybe they both were, maybe all three of them. "Your punishment can wait until later," Regina teased, voice lilting.

 

Emma actually laughed as she felt her panties being uncovered.

 

"It's getting late." Regina took a cup of steaming tea, her other hand steadily disrobing Emma. "And someone here doesn't have a car. Ruby, call your grandmother and tell her you're staying over. Then phone Mary-Margaret and tell her Emma's having a sleepover."

 

Ruby glanced around like she was looking for Granny, and a lecture. "You want me to lie to Emma's mom?"

 

"No, you're telling the truth, just leaving out the location. We've been nice all week. We deserve a girls' night."

 

"It's okay," Emma said, "she's right." Supporting Regina as the woman swiftly tugged her jeans down to her thighs. In approval?

 

"Okay," Ruby nodded, backing out of the room. "I'll be right back to clean up the mess. Don't get out of bed."

 

"We won't," Regina assured her, smiling confidentially with Emma. She took her hand away, leaving Emma with her bottom bared under the covers, the air conditioning brushing the sheets against her panty-clad ass. It made her just… bite her lip. Wanting something else. "Here."

 

Her voice startled Emma out of her reverie. Regina had picked up the tea cup and was now holding it under Emma's nose. The scent was strong, but not overpowering. More like… a bouquet of fresh flowers, in a vase on the other side of the room.

 

"It smells good," Emma said, her hand shaking as she took hold of the tea cup. Regina held onto it as well, playfully keeping it from Emma's grasp. "What is it?"

 

"Herbal tea. From the mother country." Regina winked. "Back home, there's a legend that if two people in love drink it, they'll share a single dream."

 

"Glad I don’t have to worry about that. Scott probably dreams about the Insane Clown Posse."

 

Regina looked bemused, clearly not getting the reference. "Drink." She ushered the cup to Emma's lips. "It'll help you sleep."

 

Emma blew up on the hot tea. The steam seemed to whip back immediately after she'd exhaled, twice as thick. "Maybe we should wait for it to cool down."

 

Regina reached inside Emma's lowered jeans and put a hand on Emma's bare thigh. "It's best when it's hot."

 

"And I'm not a big tea drinker."

 

Her hand on Emma's thigh exerting a gentle pressure, Regina pulled the tea away from Emma and brought it to her own lips. She tilted the cup slowly, delicately, and Emma had to strain her eyes to see the rich brown liquid lap at Regina's mouth. Her lips parted minutely, letting just a sip in before Regina lowered the cup. She swallowed, exhaled, licked her lips, her eyes closed through the entire process. Regina's body seemed to heat up with the warmth of the tea.

 

"It's a very good brew," Regina said. "Are you sure you wouldn't like any?"

 

"Maybe… a little…"

 

Regina had a wide smile as Emma took a sip. "That's the spirit. Never be afraid to try new things."

 

The taste was intense, something like honey and caramel, almost sickeningly sweet but then just the right amount of something else, with an almond-bitter aftertaste. And it did taste good warm. Not hot. Warm. A languid, summer warmth, like sweat in the sun. It eased down Emma's throat, down to her belly, and even lower—spreading through her whole body.

 

"Drink some more," Regina insisted, tilting the cup back so Emma had to drink. And she did. It tasted so good, the perfect counterpoint to the way Regina was stroking her thigh. Everything was warm and dreamy, like a pleasant dream. Like none of this was real. It was all just a bedtime story. She hadn't broken up with Scott. She'd never even dated Scott. She'd always been with Regina, here, now, touching her and being touched by her. Drinking expensive tea and sharing secrets.

 

"You have such beautiful skin," Regina said, her voice low. Just for Emma. "Such a beautiful young body. I wish I had your body. And I'd like some more tea."

 

Regina was touching Emma's thighs with both hands now. Her jeans were down around her knees. Which meant only Emma was holding the tea cup. She felt dizzy as she lifted it to Regina's perfect lips, reverent as she tilted it so Regina could drink. She watched Regina swallow, her throat working beautifully.

 

"Ahhh," Regina breathed. "That tea is good, isn't it? We must thank Ruby later."

 

"After she's punished," Emma tittered. It didn't sound like her voice, but that was okay. She liked this new, strange voice.

 

"Yes. After she's punished. Set the tea cup down, dear. It's all gone."

 

Emma let go of the tea cup. It landed on Regina's body, rolled off, and ended up on the bed beside them. A remnant of tea spilled out onto the bedspread, as dark as dried blood.

 

Emma giggled. She was liking this new voice more and more. It was like another person was speaking for her. Someone fun and adventurous and exciting. Someone who never got cheated on or grounded, who always knew what to say.

 

"I think young miss Emma is ready for bed," Regina said magnanimously, gathering up the cup in her slender fingers and setting it by the bed.

 

"Yes she is," Emma slurred. "But I have to get undressed first." She kicked her legs until her jeans had fallen off, over the side of the bed. "There." The disturbed sheets had flown off her body, exposing her ass and long, bare legs. "It's a little cold in here."

 

"Yes, it is. Put your arms around me, dear. I'll keep you warm."

 

Emma slipped her arms around Regina's waist. "What was in that tea?"

 

"Fairy dust. And ginseng."

 

"Mmmm. Can I take some home?"

 

"Certainly."

 

"I still have my shirt on, don't I?"

 

"Yes you do."

 

"Can you help me? I'm really tired."

 

"It would be my pleasure, Emma."

 

Shifting herself vertical, feeling Emma held upright against her body, Regina took hold of Emma's shirt and pulled it over the girl's head. It left her hair a mess, scattered everywhere, and Regina gathered it up and smoothed it out before she lowered herself back down to the pillow.

 

And she started touching Emma again, tenderly rubbing the base of her spine. "Am I going down far enough, Emma?" she asked, knowing the answer.

 

"Uh-uh."

 

"Then like this, perhaps?" Regina's fingers cascaded down Emma's lower back, their progress taking them to the elastic border of Emma's panties, peeling them a ways back.

 

Emma moaned at the furtive little brushes, urging them on almost subconsciously. Her body was tingling. She didn't know if it was the tea or the touching. Or maybe just something inside herself.

 

Her panties inched down with each sweep of Regina's hands. Like a conqueror, Regina took in the first hint of Emma's curved bottom, peeking out of the crumpling cotton.

 

Emma couldn't deny what was happening, but she also couldn't bring herself to care.

 

"It's very forward of you, isn't it?" Regina brought her leg up and caught her toes in Emma's disheveled panties, slipping them off with the foot. "Not wearing panties, I mean."

 

"I was wearing panties…"

 

"You must've misplaced them."

 

"I… might've…" Emma confessed. Her voice, the stranger's voice, was like one continuous yawn. She was so relaxed, and the night air was so exciting on her body, and Regina's touch was so good. Everything felt so different that it was barely like being in her body at all. Like she had floated away from her body, leaving it with Regina.

 

"It's almost like you want to be touched there," Regina whispered, a conspirator. "Do you?"

 

The word seemed incredibly small as it slipped from Emma. "Yes."

 

Without another word, Regina reached down and cupped Emma's ass. It was perfect. Firm, but just yielding enough. She squeezed, delighting in her possession of Emma's flesh, her dominion over it. The pressure opened up the valley of Emma's ass, exposing it to Regina's delighting eyes. The forbidden darkness of her anus, and just below, the golden fluff concealing her sweet pink cleft.

 

Emma sighed and actually lifted her ass up in the air, trying to meet Regina's caress. Regina forced it back down, wrapping her legs around Emma's to hold her in place as she took one hand away. To reach into her nightstand. To pull out a small green bottle.

 

"I think it's time we finish our massage."

 

Regina turned the bottle upside down, anointing Emma's ass with the viscous oil until it was shimmering. Emma moaned at the feel of it, so much cooler than she remembered, but heating up as Regina rubbed it into her skin. Her legs pedaled aimlessly, the muscles contracting involuntarily. That felt good too, her pussy lips rubbing together between her legs. Regina smiled knowingly. Both the girl's holes were getting a workout.

 

Regina's hands started to switch, the left going to Emma's right cheek and the right going to the left, lightly dipping into Emma's valley every time they crossed. Emma's breathing hit a fever pitch with every crossing. Her body relaxed with the massage and tensed with the feel of Regina's hands dipping down, applying just enough pressure to open her up, the air seeming to caress her asshole along with Regina. Only Regina never actually touched her there. Her hands just circled around and around and around, delicately ascending and descending, then actually brushing against her little ring, rimming her, the oil running down inside her. It was maddeningly pleasurable.

 

"Do you like me, Emma?" Regina asked, her voice almost pouty.

 

"Yes."

 

"How much?" Regina asked, her forefinger cresting Emma's hole.

 

"So much!" Emma whimpered.

 

"Will you show me how much you like me?" Regina withdrew her finger a little ways, leaving Emma's itch unattended.

 

"Yes!"

 

"How?"

 

"However… you want me to…" Between the pleasure and the sleep overtaking her, Emma couldn't open her eyes. She just let the other voice, the other her, speak.

 

"I want you to tell me if you like _this."_ And Regina's finger dipped just inside Emma's ass, just covering it.

 

"I dooooo—"

 

"Because if you like it, I'm going to keep doing it. Among other things."

 

"Yes…"

 

"I'm going to fuck your little ass," Regina said, unable to resist the jibe as she dug her fingers into Emma's flesh as hard as she could, her slender forefinger popping into Emma's asshole as if by accident. The girl let out a fierce groan, knowing now what it was to be entered, to be filled. The finger was almost too much, but just shy of enough. It teased her. Goaded her. Regina left it inside as she kneaded Emma's ass like it was two balls of bread dough.

 

"Fuck," Emma said, nearly asleep and about to come. She was so aroused, so goddamn _horny,_ and yet there was a serenity to it, a safety. Regina had her. She was Regina's. Nothing to worry about. She could go to sleep if she wanted. And she was tired. Very tired… "Fuck…"

 

Regina slowly lessened her efforts, her finger maddeningly just inside Emma, her massage becoming effusively lesser until it was just a teasing brush. Emma rubbed her legs together harder and faster, but she has no energy left. Eventually, they slowed to a top. Emma, drained, laid atop Regina with a gentle finger in her ass, tirelessly rubbing at her most sensitive places.

 

"Fuck me," Emma mewled. "Fuck me."

 

"In time, my sweet." Regina enjoyed torturing Emma with a little circle of her tiny, tiny finger. The girl moaned almost painfully. It was delicious. "You must sleep now. You need your rest."

 

"Need to come," Emma begged once more, the words barely more than mouthed. "Come so bad…"

Regina sang over her. "Lullaby and good night, in the sky stars are bright. Round your head, flowers gay, bring you slumbers today. Go to sleep now and rest. May these hours be blessed."


	8. Chapter 7

"Emma? Wake up, little one. It's time for your riding lessons."

 

Emma blinked, opening her eyes just not to see the pale light coming in through her blinkered windows. For a moment, she didn't know where she was—Regina's house, right? She'd gone there because—something about Scott—who was Scott?

 

Then the Queen was there, throwing the shutters open and letting the morning light in. "The best way to start the day is bright and early, Emma. Come, come. You've already missed breakfast. I trusted you to wake yourself up."

 

Now Emma remembered. She was in the palace, the ward of Queen Regina, who had promised just yesterday to finally teach her how to ride. Whoever Scott was, he must've been a dream she'd been having.

 

The Queen was already dressed for the day in a riding habit, exquisitely tailored as always. A sun hat started off her ensemble, black roses in the brim, with a red jacket curving around her figure and tight leather pants daringly caressing her legs. As modest as the jacket was, with an impish bow over the chemisette-covered cleavage, the trousers highlighted the very athleticism she'd be showing during their lessons. Regina never liked relying on any one of her many perfections, preferring to dazzle her court with a new one every day. It was one of many pieces of advice she'd given to Emma over the years.

 

The Queen presented Emma with an apple. "Eat. I know it's not much—"

 

"I'm not hungry!" Emma assured her. How could she be, when she was so excited? Her own horse, at last!

 

"We'll make up for it at lunch," the Queen promised her. "We'll have worked up a healthy appetite by then."

 

Emma almost wolfishly devoured her apples, the juice running down her chin and into the silk of her nightgown. Regina watched fondly as it dripped to her breasts. "You make me remember being young… with a young woman's appetites. Come, let's get you out of those rags and into something more suitable."

 

* * *

 

 

The Queen had brought Emma her own riding clothes. Not as stylish as Regina's, but practical and well-suited for a beginner. Breeches, a brief jacket, a silk shirt that felt astonishing against Emma's skin, and a jockey cap—all of it enchanted to protect Emma if she fell.

 

They hurried down the castle halls, Regina at her own grand pace, Emma practically straining at the leash, burning her excitement in questions. "What's my horse's name? Is it a thoroughbred? What color is he? Is it a he?"

 

"You'll see," the Queen promised her, pinching her cheek. "Tact, girl. We walk amongst men."

 

"Right." Emma matched steps with the Queen. "I am a lady, I am a lady, I am a right proper lady…"

 

"Ladies don’t mutter," the Queen chided gently.

 

 _Finally,_ they were out in the open air, walking on the tall grass outside the castle to the stables. It was a market day, with all trade suspended so families could be together and merchants could render their week's taxation to the Queen. It was so quiet, it seemed as if the castle itself were deserted, and there certainly wasn't anyone outside the walls, not with the war on.

 

The stables were a brisk walk, the kind of distance Emma and her Queen traveled all the time in their evening and morning strolls, but Emma felt heady this time. All the fresh air seemed to be going straight to her heart, puffing it up until it threatened to burst out her chest. Regina took her hand, as ladies do, and stroked her forearm soothingly.

 

"Young women's appetites," the Queen repeated. "With age, you learn to savor your pleasures. Enjoy the hunt as much as the kill."

 

"You're not excited? Once I learn to ride, we can race and travel wherever we want to without carriages. If we wanted, we could ride all the way to Balmore without anyone being the wiser! We could be alone all day, sipping wine like careless people!"

 

"You tempt me so, my little devil." The Queen sighed. "Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could just spend the day in each others' company, you resting your head in my lap—"

 

"My legs sore from a long day's ride—" Emma hinted.

 

"You can indulge your appetite soon. We're here."

 

As always when the Queen had an appointment, the stable boys had mucked out the stables and further cleansed it with magic before leaving, ensuring it smelled of roses. Each stall had been emptied, leaving only one nattering prospect…

 

Emma gasped aloud when she saw it. Tall, sleek, and black, yet only a pony—its dimensions making it seem slender, almost brittle. But she knew that if the Queen had picked it out for her, it would be fast as the dickens. Such a thing almost could've been one of the Queen's many beautiful ensembles: dark and stylish. Not to be underestimated.

 

"I love it!" Emma screamed.

 

"Love at first sight," the Queen mused, a finger trailing down Emma's back, between her shoulder blades to feel the pitter-patter of her heart at work. "I know what that's like. Ever since I first saw you."

 

Emma smiled widely, not sure how to accept the compliment—looking away at first, then meeting the Queen's eyes to show her how pleased the words had left her. After her parents had died in the war, it was pure chance that she'd wandered upon Regina as the Queen toured the devastation. Since then, Emma had lived in the palace with Regina, almost a symbol of the kingdom itself. A sign that no matter what damage the enemy rained down on them, they would survive and prosper.

 

"What do you want to name him?" Regina asked, giving Emma a subtle push to greet the animal.

 

Emma walked up to the horse, which stared at her as placidly as a newborn kitten. She reached her hand out and the horse butted its head against it, eagerly letting Emma rub its mane. "I don't know… what do you call something you just want to ride all day?"

 

"Graham?" the Queen submitted.

 

"No…"

 

"Yes, you're right. That's more a name for a dumb beast. Our little lady is clearly smart. To be kept protected and concealed from prying eyes, but brought out often for our enjoyment. How about… Belle?"

 

"Belle?" Emma nodded. "I like it!"

 

"So does she, I think," the Queen said, watching as Belle tossed her mane. "Well, every Belle I've ever known has been fond of beasts. Perhaps your horse equally enjoys being one."

 

With a little help from Regina, Emma saddled her new pet. The saddle was shiny new leather, with a monogram on the pommel. Emma noticed it as she was double-checking the straps. A stylized P. She ran her fingers over it.

 

"I thought you had this saddle made specially for me," she asked. "Why doesn't it have my name on it?"

 

"Not your name. Your title." The Queen tapped the monogram. "The nobles may not see it this way, not yet, but as far as I'm concerned, you are my Princess."

 

Too overcome to speak, Emma simply hugged the Queen. A moment later, she felt the Queen's gloves patting her on the back.

 

"Such an affectionate girl. My silly little princess. Come, let's get you saddled or there'll be no time left for riding. You can hug me as much as you want back in your room."

 

Emma backed off, still with a stupid grin on her face. She didn't know how she could ever repay her Queen, but she knew she'd find a way.

 

"Here," Regina said, casually lacing her hands together and presenting them for Emma to use as a makeshift stirrup. "Let's get you mounted."

 

"You don't want me to use the stirrups?" Emma asked. As close as they were— _queen and princess,_ Emma thought—for the Queen to offer her hands for someone, a commoner really, to use as a stepping stone…

 

"There'll be time enough for you to use the stirrups when you've had a little more practice. For now, I don't want to take any chances. Not with royalty," the Queen teased.

 

Emma laughed and obeyed, like she always ended up doing. Putting her boot in Regina's hands, Emma mounted Belle with a smooth, graceful motion. She'd imagined herself doing it so many times that it was like she'd been training for it.

 

But she never could've imagined she'd be so high up. The ground seemed like another country. And how could a pony's back be so thick? Her knees were spread so wide that Emma worried the Queen would have a Princess whose legs were permanently open by the end of the day.

 

"Thank you, your highness! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

 

"You can thank me later," the Queen said, surprising Emma by how far away she was. Along the wall of the stables, picking out a riding crop. She decided on one that was decidedly long, almost threateningly so. Walked back to Emma thumping its intimidating length into her open palm. Even that looked like it hurt. "Now, I don't want your horse taking one step until we've covered the basics."

 

Emma was disinclined to argue when the Queen had a virtual weapon in her hands.

 

First, the Queen showed her how to hold the reins, loose but not too loose. Obviously, if you pulled the reins one way, Belle turned one way, and another, another. It was like listening to one of her boorish tutors go on about arithmetic. But the Queen seemed happy with their progress. She gave Belle some sugar cubes out of the palm of her hand.

 

"Don't I get any sugar?" Emma asked teasingly.

 

"Why? Belle's doing all the work." Regina brushed her empty hands off and, for good measure, gave Belle a little kiss on the crown. Emma screwed her face up in a parody of jealousy.

 

"And that's almost all there is to it," Regina concluded, stepping back. "All that's left is getting used to the riding itself. The feel of it. Having such a strong-willed creature completely obedient to one's whim. It's a very pleasurable sensation, isn't it Emma?"

 

Emma flushed in embarrassment. Did Regina know? It meant nothing, but all the fresh air and the sunshiny day and getting to spend time with the Queen, not sharing her with boring courtiers and diplomats… plus Belle, of course, the feel of her breathing under Emma, heart pounding, blood rushing, muscles contracting. It was, well… exciting Emma. She could feel the wonderful leather of the saddle right through her riding breeches and the pommel of the saddle just fit so snugly between her legs—and her body jogging up and down with each step—it was just her body acting up, right?

 

She hadn't told Regina for fear she'd make Emma stop riding, but if she did, surely the Queen would tell her that was all it was, that it happened to everyone, that it had happened to her. She would get used to the feel, grow bored with the stimuli, and that would be that.

 

Obviously, she wanted it to end. Obviously.

 

"You have to make your horse trust you," Regina continued, smiling at Emma as she led Belle around by the halter, walking them in circles around the corral. "And you have to show her you're in control. Sometimes that means disciplining her. Do you think you can do that?"

 

"Sure," Emma said, eying the riding crop the Queen still toted. For some reason, the sight of it was making the throbbing in her crotch get better—worse! "If I have to." It was a little phallic… and the Queen was gripping it so surely…

 

The Queen casually ran her thumb over the handle of the crop. Emma imagined her holding a man's… manhood like that. Rubbing it like that.

 

Or perhaps… yes, a woman's thigh. Fingers splayed on the outer curve, thumb just touching the inside, just stroking it…

 

This was mortifying! She needed a distraction. "You said that's almost all there is to it. What else is there?"

 

"Oh, a million little things. Nothing you need to worry about now."

 

"I'm a fast learner," Emma said challengingly.

 

"You certainly are. A pity your tutors don't seem to agree."

 

Emma bit her lip. "I can do better."

 

"I trust you will. A princess should be both obedient and strong. Like the throne she sits in, giving support at the end of a long day, but also being just hard enough to foster strength, backbone. Not like a pillow, full of nothing but goose down, good only for being soft. You're not a pillow princess, are you Emma?"

 

Emma shook her hand fervently.

 

"Good. Now, the way you've been riding so far is called the sitting trot. It's fine for day-to-day riding and dressage." Dressage. Emma could've laughed. If she wanted to go to all that effort to learn to prance around, she'd join ballet. "But for hunting and jumping—" That was more like it. "There's what's called the riding trot. With each stride Belle takes, you move up and down with her, like you're breathing her air for her, rising with the inhale and lowering with the exhale. Quick, hurried breaths—like you're making passionate love."

 

Emma giggled, even as her sex gave a twinge. "I wouldn't know—"

 

"That's another lesson." The Queen brought her riding crop to Emma's thigh, moving it along the outside to her knee. "Are your feet firmly in the stirrups?"

 

"Yes, your highness. Very firm."

 

"Good girl. Push yourself up and down in the saddle. Use the stirrups."

 

Emma did, bouncing in the saddle. For a moment, she was worried it would be boring, more of being walked around the corral by Regina, not getting to ride at all. But then her crotch came down against the saddle. The leather was so cool, and her sex was pleasingly warm, like she'd been lying bare in the sun and its rays had caressed her to the fullest. The contrast was awe-inspiring. Like going into the cool, dank confines of the castle after a long day outside, boiling with sweat.

 

Her body was maddeningly sensitive, thighs and bottom conspiring with her womanhood to flood her with pleasure. Every time her body gently slapped against the hard saddle, she felt herself tremble. All over. With a lingering in her groin that carried over into the next sit, building on itself, throbbing and moistening.

 

On the third sit, Emma gasped.

 

"Are you alright?" the Queen asked. Her voice should've brought Emma back to reality, embarrassed her the way it had when Regina called on her when she was exploring herself in the bath, but not this time. Something about the Queen's voice made her feel even more safe, more free to enjoy herself. It was like she'd internalized her earlier thought about Regina having done this same thing when she was learning to ride. The image occurred to Emma, again and again. "If you're getting tired, we can stop."

 

"No… no… I can do this all night."

 

"Or all day, as the case may be." The Queen smiled graciously. "Ready for more?"

 

"Oh yes. Yes."

 

"Willing and obedient. I chose wisely." It took a moment for Emma to realize she meant the horse. "Now, push yourself back, then forward. That's posting. It frees the horse's back when you ride, so Belle really enjoys it."

 

 _So do I._ Emma thought, almost laughing at her own naughtiness. And why not? The Queen would never know. It would be her little secret.

 

Emma sat quaking astride Belle at the conclusion of each sit, grabbing bare moments to enjoy herself. The more she did it, the better she felt, the longer she spent at the end of each sit. She kept her mouth shut, but sounds came from deep within her chest. A long, contented purr as she threw herself against the saddle and swayed, her breasts now jiggling with the force of her action. She closed her eyes so the only thing she'd experience would be what she felt—and the Queen's voice. Without the burden of sight, she could feel her own hair swishing across her face. Her sex was seeping; she hadn't known it could get that wet. Soon, the leather would be saturated.

 

"That's enough, Emma. Emma, that is quite enough!" Rolling her eyes, the Queen raised her riding crop and brought it down against Emma's leg.

 

Emma's eyes popped open. She looked at Regina, filling up with guilt, as the Queen put her hands on her hips.

 

"You're expected to move with the horse, Emma, while it's going at a trot. You can't just post whenever you feel like it, you have to keep it going. Now start again, and this time I want to see you going much faster. Don't get lazy."

 

Emma nodded, unable to speak. The sudden pain had pushed her orgasm away, but it had also made the sensation in her groin sharper and more intense. Now she felt herself heating up again, as she thrust herself up and down, as she ground herself back and forth across the saddle. She was headed for her climax even faster now. It was going to be _much_ better than she'd thought.

 

"Up, down, back, forth," the Queen said approvingly, nodding with each motion Emma made. Her riding crop ticking against her palm with every repetition. "Keep going. Faster. _Faster._ "

 

Belle picked up on Emma's animalistic activity. Her hooves pawed the earth, soft neighs stirring from her mouth. It just made Emma feel more primal, more of a beast. She rocked on Belle's back, overheated from her dry mouth to her flooding pussy. She felt light-headed and almost dizzy.

 

"Faster!" the Queen ordered, the riding crop coming down harder on her open palm. "Faster, Emma!"

 

"Yes ma'am!" Emma obeyed, grabbing hold of the saddle horn to keep herself roughly in place as she slid her pussy across the saddle. Her blue eyes were becoming glassy. She could barely keep them open at all.

 

"So how do you like riding so far?" the Queen asked, crop relentlessly keeping time. "Are you having fun?"

 

"Uh-huh!" Emma was squirming with each moment she spent in the saddle. It was becoming almost impossible to keep her balance, but she wouldn't dare stop for long enough to adjust herself. Her nipples alone were so hard they could almost be seen through her jacket. "So much fun!"

 

Belle bucked and Emma almost fell from her. She barely noticed. She held on tighter, fingers white-knuckling on the horn and legs squeezing the horse's flanks like a lover.

 

"I'm glad. You know how important it is to me that you're happy." Emma almost couldn't hear the Queen over the sound of the riding crop, thwacking again and again and again. It seemed more important somehow, like its sound was flying straight to her cunt.

 

"So fucking happy…" Emma breathed, shaking. Her hips wiggled with each little snap. Her ass clenched. The saddle was turning warm with her cream, squishing with each sit. She could _hear_ how close she was.

 

"What was that?" the Queen asked. Her crop came down hard enough, it seemed, to draw blood. _._

"What was what?" Emma moaned, before she practically dove on the saddle horn. It struck her clit like Regina's own riding crop and she stopped being able to say anything at all.

 

"It sounded like you said _fucking_ ," the Queen growled, and the word sounded so goddamn good coming from her, dripping with sin and pleasure, not dirty at all. Wonderful. Being _fucked, fucking_ someone, having a _fuck_.

 

Emma's hips moved faster, unknowingly following the rhythm of the Queen's crop like a mouse after the Pied Piper.

 

"Did you use that word?" the Queen persisted. Now her crop struck her hand hard enough to bruise with each use of that beautiful word. " _Fuck?_ " Unconsciously, Emma followed suit, grinding down every time the word was spoken and the crop struck, obedient as Pavlov's dog.

 

"I might—I might—" _Come_ was the rest of the sentence, but Emma wasn't speaking, she was thinking out loud. If thought were the right word for a mind on fire with want and gratification.

 

The Queen interpreted it as 'I might've said fuck.' Or so she was polite enough to imply. " _Fuck_ is vulgar, common language. Do you think a princess is _fucked_? Do you think one _fucks_ a queen? No. We make love. Or would you rather be _fucked_ , hard and fast, dirty and brutish, _fucked_ until it hurts, _fucked_ until you're sore, _fucked and fucked and fucked…"_

Emma's thighs were fused to Belle's sides, her cunt wrapped around the wet leather like a vine, her clit being thrust against the saddle horn like hammer and tongs. Belle kicked at the earth as Emma's frenzy spread to her. Emma had to clamp her legs down on the saddle to keep from falling. She did it so hard that the saddle horn almost entered her, pressing her breeches inside her cunt like one massive finger.

 

It was like a candle setting her on fire. The flame roared in her cunt and raced up her spine and exploded behind her eyes, so bright she could see it. It hurt her eyes; her eyelids fluttered but she couldn't block it out, she could only watch as a solid wave of purple descended on her, blotting out her vision and everything else. For a moment, she was hot as a furnace, then blissful coolness. The afterglow.

 

"I asked you a question, Emma." The riding crop had stilled. "Do you want to get… _fucked?"_

 

She felt so wet it was like she'd sat in a puddle. Maybe that was why the fire had gone out. Belatedly, she realized that the entire crotch of her breeches was soaked. It was hidden by the saddle, not that she cared. Her orgasm had her dumb and dizzy. Knowing she was going to fall but not caring, she swayed stupidly until she slipped from the saddle into Regina's waiting arms. Then they both lost their balance and fell to the ground, Emma landing atop the Queen's warm, welcoming body…

 

And waking up, back in bed, no, still in bed. Emma looked around. There wasn't much to see by the soft blue moonlight that filled the room like water, but it was obvious she wasn't in a castle. She was in Regina's bedroom, having had one hell of a dream.

 

And Regina was gone. Emma was alone. Not even her clothes for company; at some point in the night, they'd been switched for a nightgown that was downright lingerie. Emma wondered who had undressed her as she slept, then decided that was ridiculous. She must've changed clothes just before falling asleep and just forgotten about it.

 

Then Emma felt a throb between her legs. She pulled the sheets back and saw, under her gown, her panties turning dark with the result of her wet dream. And she'd thought that only happened to boys. And she'd thought she wasn't even… damp. What a fucking way to find out otherwise.

 

Emma shivered, remembering the dream-Regina's thoughts on that word. The real Regina could never find out. Moving quickly in case Regina came back, Emma stripped off her wet… _dripping_ panties and ran to the window, tossing them outside into the rosebushes. The perfect crime. Her nightgown was just long enough to keep her from Britneying, so long as no one looked at its translucence too closely. But then, there was no one in the house but girls.

 

"Regina!"

 

Emma pulled the window shut so hard it nearly broke. That was a voice. A woman's voice. She'd only heard it because she'd opened the window; it seemed to be coming from the other wing of the house, carried to her by a chance breeze.

 

It sounded like someone was in pain.

 

Moving to the door, uncomfortably aroused by the feel of cool air against her bare sex, Emma eased the knob around and cracked the door. There was no one in the hallway, but she heard another sound carrying. This one… sharper. Dangerous, somehow.

 

"Hello?" Emma called softly, not that she was sure what the point of calling out to someone was when she was whispering. Just in case there was a really polite burglar out there with really good hearing, she supposed.

 

She slipped out the door, her oversensitive pussy sending a twinge through her body. Fuck ( _Fuck,_ as Regina would put it), this was too much.

 

"Regina, please!" The voice again, the woman again. "Oh please!" It definitely sounded like she was in pain.

 

Gathering her courage and trying to ignore the lingering heat between her legs, Emma crept through the house, toward the woman calling Regina's name.


	9. Chapter 8

The sound was coming from the study, a room that had struck Emma earlier as being both private but on display. It was set off by hallways on all sides, putting two layers of walls between it and any distractions. Which meant the sound had to be really loud to carry.

 

Each of the study's four doors had glass panes in it. Emma could see right inside as she crept down the hallway toward it. She saw a bistro chair facing away from her, Regina sitting in it. She was dressed properly, in another of her smart business suits, but her back wasn't as straight as usual. She leaned forward, like a diner bent over a delicious plate. A little closer and Emma could see why.

 

A long set of legs shot out from one side of her lap, Ruby's torso emerging from the other. Both had one article of clothing. Ruby's bra, a shoulder strap hanging down in dishabille, and her panties. Pulled down to the bottom of her thighs.

 

Emma remembered her own panties were in a bush somewhere. It was hard to think of anything else.

 

"Shh, shh," Regina whispered, her hand hidden in front of her body—rubbing like it was a lazy cat stretched across her lap and not a young woman. "You'll wake our guest. Now remember what I said. You only have to take fifteen strokes to make up for breaking my nice tea cup."

 

Regina's stroking became longer and more even, as her other hand dipped down to her side. In it was a paddle brush. Used mainly for hair that was unruly. Hard to manage.

 

Emma's brain stalled. _Why's she brushing her hair? Ruby's always looks so nice._

 

Regina stopped rubbing and just tapped Ruby a few times like a gambler knocking on wood. Emma's mind still refused to process it. Was… was Regina touching Ruby's ass? "If you're a good girl and count off the last five strokes, I'll give you a reward. Alright?"

 

Ruby said nothing, just nodding, the motion jerking her hair out of the way. Emma could see her jaw set in a pained pout.

 

" _Alright?_ " the Mayor reiterated.

 

"Yes, mistress," Ruby said, barely above a whimper.

 

"There's my good girl. Taking her punishment so well…" And Regina raised the brush high, as if displaying it for Emma, and brought it down behind her blocking body. Onto Ruby's ass.

 

A hard sound of solid object hitting vulnerable flesh. Emma could barely believe part of that sound was human. Ruby cried out, a sharp exhaled breath, and then simmered in pain. "Mmm, _mmm_ ," holding it down so well she could almost be savoring it.

 

Emma had just been standing in the hallway, watching, but as soon as the assault began she jerked to the side, taking cover next to the glass door. She only heard the next one; another unbearably physical _smack,_ then no human noise at all. She could've almost believed Ruby had passed out.

 

Nearly without thought, Emma felt herself in motion again. She literally tip-toed around the corner, seeing the door on the west side of the room. She'd been looking in from the south. She practically ran to it. Then, barely breathing, she pressed herself to the wall and craned her head so only a single eye was looking through the glass.

 

She saw Ruby's face as the brush came down again. The tears in her eyes. The red blush on her cheeks. The smile on her lips as the brush smacked her ass, hard, over and over again.

 

"Yes, mistress!" Ruby cried out, her hair falling in front of her face, her eyes hooded with the lust that took over once the pain her left. "More, please! Just a few more! I'm almost there—"

 

"Oh?" Regina asked, her arm resting on Ruby's back now. Finger tapping at the base of her spine. "You don't feel you've been punished enough?"

 

"No! I have a guilty conscience, mistress. I won't be able to sleep a wink unless you punish me more—severely."

 

"Well…" Regina's tapping finger fell on Ruby's skin and stayed there, swishing back and forth. "If it would help you sleep at night… you know how it would disturb me if you couldn’t sleep at night…"

 

"Mistress?" Ruby bit her lip. "Use your hand?"

 

"What's the magic word?"

 

"Please?" Regina's finger rolled in a caressing circle down the curve of Ruby's ass, just out of Emma's sight… down where the blows had landed. Ruby's face screwed up, eyes closed in wanton need. " _Pretty please_?"

 

Emma knew then she had to watch from the other side. She ran back to the south side of the room, streaked by the south door, and dropped to all fours to get to the east door. There, she saw Ruby's ass.

 

It would've been amazing under normal circumstances—pert and smooth, a luscious apple as ripe and juicy as anything Regina touched. But seeing it blazing red, almost glowing, and shockingly on display for Regina's perusal…

 

Emma reached under her nightgown to touch herself. She only remembered she wasn't wearing panties when her fingers started to go—inside.

 

She pulled her hand clear, the sensation prompting a rush of air from her lungs… and the feeling remained, like a phantom hand was rubbing insistently between her legs. Regina was spanking Ruby.

 

It was almost hypnotic. Regina in perfect control, her hand like a metronome, coming down with perfect, even strokes, the sound itself small and well-ordered. Her palm landing precisely where she meant it, causing Ruby's flesh to blossom in pink, the same fetching tone across her thighs and buttocks.

 

And then there was Ruby, each hit of flesh against flesh making her breathing harder and hotter, regressing her into a wild animal—toes curling, breath pitching, gritted obscenities pumping from her lips. Her hands finally shot down to grip the legs of the chair Regina was sitting in, and she shifted the piece of furniture a few centimeters in her frenzy.

 

Regina just calmly picked up the pace, the sound going deeper and louder, Ruby tossing her head and flipping her hair, grunting and groaning feverishly, bestially. Until Regina stopped, her hand up for another slap, Ruby crooning like a wolf after the moon—so needing, so desperate. Regina brought her hand down softly and ran one finger across Ruby's upturned cheeks, giving the overstimulated nerves one last thrill. Ruby practically howled.

 

" _Fuck,_ Regina, I'm so close—" Ruby vibrated with excitement, need, a dog under the table, staring at a bit of meat and willing to dance for it. She'd shed the mannered submission of their game, but there was no doubt she was still obedient to Regina, virtually prostrating herself before the older woman. Her homage was at a primordial level. " _Pretty please?_ " she begged girlishly.

 

"Shh, shh," Regina cooed, all-wise, all-powerful. "I know what you need. Don't I always?"

 

Her solitary finger feathered down the crack of Ruby's ass, where the skin was still pale. An answering ripple ran up Ruby's body; her spine sinuously undulated for Regina.

 

"You know what I think, Ruby?"

 

Regina's finger reversed course, just before it reached Ruby's sex. Ruby's back obediently shimmied from the feeling. A puppet on Regina's strings.

 

"I think you have a nasty, naughty little pussy."

 

Ruby breathed coarsely as the very tip of Regina's finger, the sharp nail, traversed her lower back. It zig-zagged over the small of her back before going back down. Down, down, down.

 

"I think it's gotten all wet from your punishment."

 

At long last, her finger found the damp softness Ruby kept hidden. Slickly, it moved in.

 

"I think if I put just one finger inside you, your nasty, naughty little pussy will come all over it."

 

Regina held her hand just clear, the knuckle only just inside, wiggling as softly and alluring as a worm on a hook.

 

"Will you come?" Regina asked, moving her hand just a jolt closer. Ruby's head flew up, hair tumbling beautifully down her back. Emma wished she could see the look on her face, but she didn't dare move. Didn't risk missing a moment of this.

 

"Will you come for me?" Regina insisted as her hand moved closer, closer, surely she was inside now, surely she was fucking her.

 

 _Fucking Ruby's pussy._ The words seemed too big for Emma's head, but that's what Regina was doing. That's what Emma was watching.

 

"Yes, Regina," Ruby said, exhausted, _drained_. On her tongue, the other woman's name was more worshipful than any title: mistress, mayor, queen.

 

Regina's other hand slid along the succulent curve of Ruby's ass and its spanked blush, just starting to lose its luster. The nerves sung for Regina. Emma could've sworn she saw electricity running through Ruby's spine.

 

"There's a good girl," Regina praised, lightly patting Ruby's well-spanked seat. Then, slower, more firmly, she gave Ruby a priming paddle. "Now, my pet. _Now._ "

 

The hand between Ruby's legs did something Emma couldn't see, but would've done anything to know the feeling of. Ruby went stiff, too overcome to even breathe, and finally slumped across Regina's lap. Emma could see her face, upside-down under the chair. Their eyes met.

 

Ruby smiled at her.

 

With infinite care, Regina gathered Ruby up and pulled her upright on her lap, bouncing her on her knee like a baby and letting her plant her chin on Regina's shoulder. Ruby's well-used ass was on display, like Regina had put it on private exhibition for Emma. The teen watched as Regina alternated between kneading it, bringing the pain back, and rubbing it. Putting the pain aside so other feelings could hold sway.

 

For long minutes, they stayed like that, Regina babying Ruby, the girl lovingly submitting to it. Then Ruby started kissing Regina's cheek, her neck, getting all the way to her lips like an excited puppy, ready to play.

 

It would've looked like Ruby taking the initiative. But somehow, Emma knew better. It was Ruby submitting. Saying she was ready for more.

 

Still gentle, still in command, Regina helped Ruby down to her knees before her. "Punishment's over, Ruby. Time to serve your mayor."

 

With a gleam in her eye—and a quick look over at Emma—Ruby parted Regina's thighs and bent her head.

 

Emma felt a drop of moisture on her inner thigh. She was wet. Hot. One touch down there, just to check, and she was nearly overcome. And now Regina's head was lolling back, her lips parted, her teeth bared, something wonderfully predatory in how she claimed her pleasure. Emma could've watched her forever. She could've come right then and there, or in a few moments, when Regina finished unbuttoning her jacket.

 

But something told her that there was no going back from that, from feeling that pleasure. A line from one of her mom's cheesy romance novels ran through her mind. _You've ruined me for other men,_ the flaxen-haired schoolmarm said to the frequently shirtless cowboy.

 

That was what Regina would do to her, Emma knew. She'd ruin her. Addict her. Possess her. And as much as Emma yearned for that, wanted to throw open the door and join Ruby in worship, she couldn't.

 

She backed away, slowly at first, but as she heard the first of Regina's soft moans, she turned and ran. All the way home. To pretend it had never happened.

 

* * *

 

 

"Emma, what is this? Did someone have a sleepover?"

 

Emma came awake blearily. She was back in her own bed. It was almost tempting to write it all off as a dream, as if that were less disturbing—that her subconscious was eager to think of her two best friends in some kind of lesbian sex game. Then she looked around, saw Mary-Margaret, saw what Mary-Margaret was holding. The nightgown she'd been dressed in at Regina's.

 

Emma hadn't even been able to stand wearing it. As soon as she'd gotten home, she'd stripped it off and threw on a pair of pajama pants and a Steelers jersey picked up at a yard sale. Both were scratchy and uncomfortable compared to whatever the nightgown was made out of, but at least they didn't remind her of what she'd seen.

 

"No, it's mine," Emma said, thinking as fast as she could without coffee. "I bought it this weekend."

 

"Where'd you get the money?"

 

"Selling drugs."

 

" _Emma._ "

 

"Regina gave me a little extra money for a job well-done. She says her garden has never looked cleaner, so not all the money has to go toward fixing the car."

 

"It's nice," Mary-Margaret said, folding it up to put away. She gave Emma a long-suffering sigh over finding new clothes on the floor. "Not that I'm at all sure why you need to wear something so flattering to bed. Expecting company?"

 

"It was on sale, that’s all. I'll hold onto it until I'm married, when my husband can enjoy it."

 

"Uh-huh. Well, it's your money, at least it looks decent. Not like those Uggs you bought with your Christmas money."

 

"Mom, everyone wears them."

 

"Yes, yes, I just hope you realize, five years from now, everyone's going to be unloading them at every garage sale you've ever heard of." Mary-Margaret picked up some plates Emma had left in her room. "By the way, where were you last night?"

 

"Last night?"

 

"I didn't hear you come in. The last time I heard from you, you were going on a date with Scott. So I figured you broke curfew and I'd just ground you and get to enjoy your company a few days. Then he called here five times, trying to get in touch with you. You weren't picking up your cell-phone."

 

"Regina needed me. Her car broke down, so she wanted me to give her a ride out of town."

 

"That late?"

 

"The car trouble was probably something I knocked loose; I owed her."

 

"And where would she need to go in the middle of the night?"

 

"She said it was private. We just drove down the coast a ways, she had a quick cup of coffee with this guy, I did some homework in the car. Then we drove back."

 

"So you were with Mayor Mills the whole time?"

 

"Yeah." It was more or less the truth. Emma wasn't sure when she'd gotten so good at lying, but her mother seemed to be buying it.

 

"Next time, tell the Mayor to call me before she takes my daughter on a field trip."

 

"I would've called, but I didn't know it would be such a long drive. I'm sure she didn't think about it either."

 

"Alright," Mary-Margaret said, spotting some empty soda cans under the bed but giving up on them. "Hey, if the Mayor doesn't need you, maybe you can spend time with your old mom for a change. We could go to the spa. Get our nails did."

 

"Yeah, sure, that’d be awesome."

 

"Okay then." Mary-Margaret backed out the door of Emma's room. "Make your bed once you're done sleeping in."

 

"Yeah, Ma," Emma called, dropping back onto her pillow. As soon as her mother was gone, she grabbed her cell-phone and sent a quick text to Regina, asking her to back up the story in case Mary-Margaret called. It was no big deal. She just didn't want to get into it about Scott and… everything.

 

Still, it was funny how she knew Regina would do it for her.

 

Her phone buzzed immediately and Emma nearly fell out of bed. It wasn't Regina. It was a text from Ruby.

 

_We need to talk._


	10. Chapter 9

It was Sunday and for once Emma wished she had school. Or even detention. But no, there was no escape from what she'd seen. It felt like she'd taken a drug. The cool metal she touched was cold as the Arctic and sun-baked concrete was the Gobi Desert. Looking at a wall had her imagine Regina pinning her against it, seeing an ice cream truck made her fantasize that Regina was running a Popsicle over her body. Going to Granny's was at least a distraction.  
  
She didn't go inside. She sat on the bench across the street. It was a nice day, everyone would assume she was just people-watching. Not pinching her thighs, trying to cure herself of thoughts of Regina. Of Ruby. Both of them, and her.  
  
It was a slow day for the diner, Emma could see through the windows. Ruby spent more time cleaning than serving people. Her abbreviated ensemble and punkish leather collar were wasted on a few day laborers who'd skipped breakfast and hurried through brunch. But Granny was letting her off easy. When the place was spic and span, Ruby leaned on the counter, staring off into the distance. Emma saw Granny ask her if she'd like to sit down, rest her feet. Ruby shook her head.  
  
Emma watched as Granny gave up on the abandoned diner. She locked up the register, gave Ruby the keys, read her a last-minute Riot Act, and left. Ruby locked up after her and took an envelope out of her apron. She pulled it open and looked inside like someone with a full wallet going through their cash. Her cheeks were red.  
  
Emma felt herself lifted up, walked across the street, and her hand brought against the glass door. Right where the sign was flipped to Closed.  
  
The envelope put away, Ruby opened the door for her. She locked it behind her.  
  
“You said we should talk.” Emma planted herself in a booth, almost scrunched down in her seat.  
  
Ruby's hands were cinched together. “Yeah. You want something to eat? I could throw some eggs on. No charge.”  
  
“I'm not hungry.” Emma scrubbed at her eye. It felt like she had a screw in it. “What'd you want to say?”  
  
Ruby sat down across from her. She straightened out her hair, stopping with her hand twined in her fringe. “I don't know. You wanna... share your feelings? Maybe?”  
  
Her eye twitched until it was done. “What, like I wrote an essay?”  
  
“I just want to know—shit, are you telling anyone?” Ruby snapped.  
  
“No!” Emma shook her head, like she couldn't put enough distance between her and that idea. It was unthinkable. “I would never do that to her… Did you tell her about me?”  
  
No point asking who.  
  
“I didn't,” Ruby said, holding her hair aside now. It trickled through her fingers. "She wouldn't have liked that."  
  
"Okay." Emma nodded to herself, before resting her chin on her hands as if to hold it still. "So I'm not going to tell. And you're not going to tell. So… should I leave?"  
  
A single, solitary follicle stayed between Ruby's fingers. The rest laid limply against her scalp. She pulled at the strand of hair. Making it taut. "I thought you might be curious."  
  
"Curious?"  
  
"About us. I thought you would have questions."  
  
Emma felt her jaw going slack. "I do."  
  
"I'm not ashamed. I'll tell you anything."  
  
"About Regina?"  
  
A shudder seemed to go through Ruby at the name, climaxing in a nod. "Yes."  
  
"About what you do together?"  
  
Ruby's lips worked over each other, neither appearing fully until she pulled the wayward hair off her head. Then her lips set. "Ask me anything."  
  
"How did it start?" Emma asked with a dry mouth.  
  
"The museum." Ruby leaned back, sprawling across the wall of the booth. "You remember that adult art exhibit a few years back? Everyone was so scandalized. Well, I went there. I still can't believe they let me in. A lot of those paintings, I couldn't even see why anyone would object to them. They were just people! But some… yeah, those I understood. They made you feel things, way deep down. Made you think about pain, pleasure. One of them sort of held onto me. It was beautiful. I bought a copy later. I keep it in my room, hidden, but sometimes I look at it. When I'm alone, I mean."  
  
Her eyes were hooded, soon closed.  
  
"It's of this woman. She's not naked, but her clothes are so tight that they're almost a straitjacket. Her hands are behind her back—maybe they're bound, or maybe she was just holding them that way. There's a rope around her neck too. Not like a leash, or a noose. Like… silk. To keep her from breathing when she's not supposed to breathe. And there's a blindfold over her eyes. All you can really see is her mouth. It's open and… not quite smiling, but not quite screaming either.  
  
"She looks so beautiful, Emma. I can't explain it. Maybe the description said she was in pain, maybe the artist intended for her to be in pain, but I could just tell that it was good. She wanted it."  
  
Emma could picture it, like a quick glimpse of something TV-MA while you were flipping through channels. You hoped no one saw it, you pretended not to see anything, but really, you wanted to _know_. "How long did you look at it?"  
  
"Long enough for Regina to notice. She, uh, brought me to drink. My mouth had gotten dry and I hadn’t noticed, but somehow she had. She started talking to me about how good it was to see a young woman with an interest in art; you know her spiel. I was in awe of her, even then. I just went along as we walked through the museum, always from all the people who would've loved to listen to the Mayor chatting up a hot young thing. She asked me how it made me feel. I was in high school then, so I'd written enough essays to bullshit about female oppression and speaking up for yourself. And she said…"

 

* * *

  
_That's very insightful. Although I must say, it just makes me horny._

* * *

  
  
Emma swallowed. "Did she touch you there?"  
  
"No. Not for a long time. But she told me she had this… collection. And that I could see it, if I wanted. I…" Ruby's jaw twitch. The memory seemed powerful. She opened her eyes to look at Emma, trying to share it, split it between them. "I knew it was wrong. No, not _wrong_ … that's what people would call it, but it wasn't wrong. But I knew that a lot of people wouldn't approve. I guess that's why I agreed. And… she did touch me. Just her hand. She just took my hand in hers and squeezed and." Ruby shook her head, breaking her eye contact with Emma. "It sounds like so little. But she can be overwhelming. You know, right? You know how she can be.  
  
"Regina ran her thumb over the back of my hand. It felt like I'd been alone, without ever realizing it, and now I was finally part of something.  
  
"The next day I went to her house. I wanted to go there all night, I laid awake in bed, but I couldn't move. I thought about it, but I would picture the stairs creaking or Granny waking up and it just—in the morning, it was like no big deal. I told myself I just couldn't sleep. Insomnia or something. But I went to Regina's house."  
  
Ruby bit her lip. For a few moments she just breathed, her eyes dashing away from Emma's. Looking out the window, around the diner, like someone might've snuck in just to eavesdrop on them. Emma looked down at her hands, flat on the table. Her thumbs had wrapped around the edge. The knuckles were white.  
  
"You couldn't think of anything else," Emma asked, almost sullenly.  
  
Ruby faced her again. She had a thousand-yard stare, an addict's stare, excited and obscene and rueful, all at once. Regrets, but not enough to regret what had happened. Regret that it hadn't happened sooner. Rueful that it hadn't happened more.  
  
"Anyone else," Ruby said. "You've seen a lot of her paintings. They're not really _erotic_ unless you know what to look for. But this time, they spoke to me. I could see what was beneath them. And she showed me her private collection. Down in the basement." She ran her hand over her face. A light glaze of sweat was building. She grabbed a napkin to wipe it away. "She was so gentle. Not that she touched me; not then. But the way she talked to me. And looked at me. I was so used to being judged. The way I dress and the way I talk and act. No one ever really listened to me. I had to shout just for them to notice, but not with her. She listened."  
  
Emma breathed at the same time as Ruby. "She understood you."  
  
" _She was me_ ," Ruby insisted. "She was a part of me or I was a part of her." Ruby almost stood, turning and sliding a little ways out of the booth, then stopping. Her hand was on the table, the fingers pressed flat. Hers and Emma's pointed to each other. "Are you sure you don't want something? Not even a glass of water?"  
  
"Finish the story."  
  
Ruby sat back down. "Have you seen the private collection?"  
  
"No. You know I haven't."  
  
"It is the kind of thing you can… almost smell on someone. It wasn't, like, donkeys and midgets or anything like that. It wasn't _uncouth_ , it was Regina's. Just beautiful people. Enjoying themselves. I understood that, you'd understand it, but so many people would just see the obscene things. The breasts, the cocks, the whips, the blood. But that was just a part of the pictures."  
  
"Just part of life."  
  
"Yes. _Yes_." Ruby banged her hand on the table. "She took me back upstairs and she showed me some of her own photographs, in her office. She was a budding photographer. That's how she put it. Not amateur. Budding. And it wasn't tits and ass, it was sunsets and nature. You know how this town can be. She made it look like a fairy tale."

 

* * *

_There's beauty all around, Ms. Lucas. You just have to look for it._  
  
Is that what I'm doing here? Looking for beauty?  
  
 _Perhaps it's me that's looking. After all, I seem to have found it. At long last._

* * *

  
  
Emma looked at Ruby's hand on the table. Closer to her than it had been before. There was something tempting about it. Something curious. Had it touched Regina? Had it entered her? Had Regina kissed it, sucked on it, ran it across her face?  
  
"When was your first kiss?"  
  
"Later. Always later. She made me wait for it—want it. That first day, the sun was setting. She asked me if I'd like to take some pictures in the good light. She let me use her camera. Regina had on this dress. Do you know the one? Alexander McQueen, I think. Red, with this pattern on it. Your eyes follow it, but it never seems to end. She posed for me. Did little dances, made little faces. There wasn't anything naughty about it, but we could both feel something. The way I looked at her through the lens—you could see it when the photos developed. How I was in love with her.  
  
"I came back later, to see the photos. She'd had one framed, and she gave it to me. I keep it hidden with the painting, but when I move out, I'm going to put it out in the open. She looks like a goddess in it."  
  
"She always looks like a goddess," Emma said.  
  
"It's amazing how people don’t see it," Ruby added. Her hand seemed to inch toward Emma, although maybe that was just a trick of the eye. "She asked if she could photograph me this time. I agreed. Some of the pictures were—a little embarrassing. I was flirting with her. I tugged on her my shirt, flipped my hair, you know. She didn't say anything about it, but I could tell she liked it.  
  
"So I went back to her house and this time, she said she had a photo shoot in mind. We'd go to this spot she'd found and use her new camera. And she wanted to get me some special clothes. She took me to this boutique and we tried things on. I got her to put on some stuff. That scarf she wears sometimes? I bought it for her. I insisted. But my dresses, she bought them. I still have them."  
  
"With your painting," Emma said. "And your picture of her."  
  
"Some. There's one I lied about. I convinced Granny that I saved money to buy it. I hardly ever lied to her before—mostly she just doesn't ask. But I love it. It was the dress I wore that day. I feel like if I go for too long without feeling it on my skin, then. It'll just disappear."  
  
"Where'd you go?"  
  
"The river. A few miles past the old toll bridge, there's a lagoon. She actually got me to go in with my new dress on." Ruby smiled at the memory, not a tease, not a grin. An effervescent joy. Emma tried to remember seeing that before. It seemed almost private. "I had to lift it up and wade in up to my knees, but the pictures Regina took. It was how she saw me, and I could touch it, I could hold it in my hand!"  
  
"She kept taking pictures of you."  
  
"Yes." Ruby moved with blinding speed, taking her hand from the table to Emma's wrist. It felt right, the pressure she was putting on it. It felt real. "I know how people look at me. Cheap. Jailbait. When she photographed me, I looked beautiful."  
  
"You are beautiful."  
  
"Not like this. This was…" Ruby's eyes seemed misty. "Helen of Troy. Cleopatra. Angelina Jolie. Here. I brought some with me."  
  
Ruby reached under the table, into the tiny, hip-hugging apron she wore. There was a pocket in the front of it. She brought out an envelope and pressed it into Emma's hand. Her hands slid away. Emma wondered if she wanted to put them back in her apron.  
  
She opened the envelope. It hadn't been sealed, and she could imagine Ruby paging through it again and again. She took the pictures out, a thick stack of them. The first few were just of Ruby. She was wearing her waitress outfit, but it seemed more demure in the pictures. Maybe it was the way she was shy, a little awkward, unused to being photographed. Emma moved the photos from the front of the stack to the back as she went, the little sound filling up the diner. Louder than either of them breathing.  
  
Ruby got used to the camera quick. She struck poses, girlish things, doing a little rock star hand gesture, grabbing herself, playing her leg like a guitar. Emma could imagine Regina behind the camera, smiling beatifically at the antics, laughingly urging her along.  
  
Then some photos in black and white. They seemed more professional than the casual shots earlier, some monkeying around with the format. Regina being perfect again. Ruby wore a man's suit tailored to fit her femininity. She was more serious, though it alternated with shots of her cracking up, gesturing at the woman behind the camera. _C'mon. _Lighten up._ Play with me. Let me have the camera._ Who knew. In one photo, she jokingly choked herself with her own necktie. In the next, the tie led off the photo's borders, held by the photographer. Regina.  
  
Emma looked up. Ruby was staring at her. _Dining_ on every little face she made, every furrow in her brow, every squint and every wide eye. She was waiting for something.  
  
Emma went to the next photo, still looking back at Ruby as if asking a question, then her eyes dropped back down. It was the lagoon. Ruby wore a dress. It was amazing, shades of red and black, sleek and flattering, with leather forming a kind of jacket to top off its tight curves. It seemed like the kind of thing Regina would wear when she was Emma's age. A princess's gown.  
  
The first picture, even Ruby herself seemed to be marveling at how well it suited her. Her face was set in an impressed grin. But in the next few, a change had come over her. Some coaching from Regina—something she'd said or done. But now Ruby looked god-like. Unapproachable. Impervious. Ethereal. Wading into the water, she was a mermaid visiting home.  
  
There was one picture done on a timer. Ruby and Regina, sitting in the hatchback of Regina's Kia—the car she drove around on business as opposed to pleasure. Regina was drying off Ruby's bare feet with a towel, playing with her toes, a set of knee-highs next to them. Ruby was laughing. Regina was grinning. They looked like two people talking without words.

 

* * *

  
_You are a goddess, Ms. Lucas. Never let anyone tell you different._  
  
Come on. If anyone here's a goddess… it's not me.  
  
 _I'm no goddess. In fact, I'd much rather be the Devil. It seems like so much more fun._

* * *

  
  
After that, the photographs moved inside. Regina's house. At first, the natural light of the windows. Ruby in jeans and a tanktop, her bra visible, her panties not because they weren't there when her trousers rode low. It was more than she wore as a waitress, but it seemed more explicit. Intimate. Emma instinctively looked up to see if anything had seen her looking at this and caught Ruby, still watching her. Tongue traveling her lips.  
  
That just forced her attention back to the photographs. Now they were away from the windows, or at night, or in rooms with no windows. The look was different, some calculated lighting done by Regina. It threw sharp shadows across Ruby's body, camouflaging her in them. She wore those, and lingerie. Camisoles. Babydolls. Corsets. Kimonos. A dozen other things Emma didn't know the name of. Regina seemed to have an insane variety of bras and panties, and they all suited Ruby to a tee. She had a body made for sin, as Mary-Margaret would say.  
  
Then Ruby was wearing nothing at all. The camera was close to her. Consuming her. It caught her face. Her hands. Her legs. Her breasts, covered by her arm. Her sex, hid by her fingers. Her ass, gloriously unhidden.  
  
Her lips, parted.  
  
"She did it herself first," Ruby said. Emma would've thought that would shock her, but it seemed perfectly alright. Like the photos were speaking to her out loud. "I was uncomfortable, so she took her clothes off. I still remember… she was wearing a red bra and red panties. They were so damn sexy. I thought about her wearing those all the time, under all those stylish suits. That's what made me do it. Realizing that I was naked all the time too. With her, I mean."  
  
Emma went to the next photo, the last photo. It was a self-portrait. Regina in a bodice, a choker, gloves, boots. All black, all leather. She held a riding crop. The kind you'd use to control an animal.  
  
"That's when you kissed her," Emma said softly. She would've.  
  
"No." Gently, Ruby pulled the pictures out of Emma's slack hands. She put them back in the envelope. "It wasn't until my high school graduation that I really…" Ruby's hands tightened on the envelope, a note of possessiveness. The paper crinkled as she tucked it away. "She photographed me when I was on stage. It seemed so innocent; everyone was taking pictures. But when I had her eyes on me, I couldn't breathe. I could barely speak, barely even accept my diploma. Sweat ran down my body. I felt it over my breasts. Between my legs. Everyone else went out partying, but I saw Regina's car at the curve. She looked at me. She just—" Ruby held up her hand. It was shaking, but she still managed to crook her finger. "So I went with her."  
  
"Did you know what was going to happen?" Emma asked, not sure how she knew. But she did.  
  
"Part of me." Ruby half-smiled. "I felt… wonderfully _alone_ with her. Alone together. All my friends had booze and dancing, but I had her. I was special. We went back to her place—I didn't tell Granny where I'd gone, which I'd always used to do. She just assumed I was out partying with everyone else. Regina, she popped a bottle of champagne, showed me how to drink it. How first you smell, then you toast, then you drink. Slowly. Not like cheap beer. Then she said something about getting me out of my scratchy robe. The room she'd taken me to had this amazing mirror—it looked like something Marie Antoinette would own. I looked at that and I think I saw myself as Regina saw me. I'd never looked at myself that way before. As a woman."  
  
"What'd she say to you?" Emma had to know. Had to.  
  
Ruby closed her eyes, remembering. She wouldn't share it. It was too private. Hers and hers alone.

 

* * *

  
_So, my pet... what are you going to do when you grow up?_  
  
I thought I was grown up.  
  
 _Not quite yet… no one's made a woman out of you yet. If they had, you wouldn't still be working at Granny's diner._  
  
I don't know… I'll figure something out.  
  
 _Have you considered being a whore?_  
  
A what?  
  
 _If you were a whore, I could give you some money and fuck you right now. I'd fuck you so hard, Ruby. I'd make you come. I'd make you_ mine _._

* * *

  
  
"I watched in the mirror," Ruby said. "Like it was happening to someone else. I had to keep telling myself it was happening to me. That it was really happening, and that it was happening to me. She took my clothes off. I had all this time to stop her, but I just kept wanting it more and more. As she took my robe off. My shirt. My bra. Then she kissed me."  
  
"What was it like?"  
  
"I can't describe something like that. It was… perfect. I took my panties off for her. Then she held me from behind, with an arm around my throat like a bad guy taking a hostage in some action movie. But her other hand… Emma, her other hand… I saw it in the mirror."

 

* * *

  
  
_Look, Ruby. Look how you moan, and sigh, and scream, like a good little slut. You're a whore, Ruby. You're my whore._

* * *

  
  
"Was she gentle?" Emma asked. People were always gentle on the CW.  
  
Ruby smiled, her teeth showing. "No. She was rough with me. She knew I wouldn't break. I had bruises the next day. Sore spots to make me remember. I had to stop dressing like such a slut so no one would realize. But I wasn't a slut anymore, or a party girl, or whatever you want to call it. I was Regina's. And nothing we ever did could be bad or dirty.  
  
"Afterward… I felt like I'd lost my virginity all over again. But it wasn't a disappointment this time, it was how it was supposed to feel. This time my world really had changed." Ruby reached down again. Down into her apron. "I got a letter the next day. From Regina. It was a contract."  
  
She put it on the table, passed it to Emma. Their hands touched as she took it.  
  
Emma read. Ruby's toes met hers under the table, but she couldn't bring herself to look up from the words before her. She felt Ruby's foot—shoe off, stockings silken as a lie—run up her leg. Unconsciously, she spread her knees as it went higher. She didn't close them as Ruby's toes ran teasingly over the beginning of her thigh.  
  
 _I, Ruby Lucas, of free mind and under no duress, do offer my will and body to Regina Mills, to use as she sees fit to the satisfaction of her wants and desires. Furthermore, that her care and guidance will make me a better woman, a better lover, and lead to my own personal pleasure. Thus, she may:_  
  
 _Call upon my time, abilities, and services at her convenience._  
  
 _Have unfettered use of my body, at the times and locations of her choosing, and with whatever individuals she deems worthy._  
  
 _Photograph or record me in what way she sees fit, doing what she asks of me or acting under my own initiative._  
  
Ruby's foot ascended to the inside of Emma's thigh. She let it push her legs open, but Ruby stopped when her toes were under Emma's skirt. The blonde read the same sentence three times before Ruby ran her big toe over Emma's flesh.  
  
Emma glanced up. Her brief glimpse of Ruby's smirk told her the other woman had suspected she wasn't wearing panties.  
  
 _In return, I shall:_  
  
 _Obey her commands as best I can._  
  
 _Reveal to her my innermost desires, unashamed, knowing it is her fervent wish to help me fulfill them._  
  
 _Inform her of my thoughts and feelings, knowing that her wisdom will show me how to shape these to further my development as a person and as her submissive._  
  
Emma squirmed like a worm on a hook. It felt unbelievable. She'd been this turned on before, although never by a goddamn _business contract_ , but to have these feelings and to also have them met… have them answered… She thought of Ruby's foot, soaked in her, and tried to trap it between her thighs, get it inside her. Ruby, smirk growing, moved too fast for her. Her foot ran up and down Emma's thighs, never ending up where Emma wanted it. Needed it. And still she kept reading.  
  
 _This agreement is done in the knowledge that my mistress does not wish to demean me as a person, nor to harm me in any way except that which I will enjoy and find fulfillment in. To the best of her abilities, my mistress will not interfere with my own responsibilities to friends, family, or work, except insomuch as it mutually satisfies us or helps my personal development as she deems appropriate._  
  
Emma moaned as Ruby's cool, lacquered toenails tickled her clit. She spread her legs wider and Ruby finally gave her what she'd been craving, massaging her pussy with the soft, taunting toes of her right foot. Emma breathlessly wiggled in her seat, eyes barely open but still wide enough to keep reading.  
  
 _Should I for any reason find this agreement no longer satisfactory, I may leave at any time by verbally notifying my mistress. She may similarly cancel this agreement for any reason. Until such a time, I am my mistress's slave and property, to do with as she sees fit, for as long as she sees fit. My signature shows that her pain I will find more satisfying than any other's pleasure._  
  
Ruby's name was signed below. A hurried scrawl.  
  
"I barely read to the end before I signed it," Ruby said, panting as hard as Emma.  
  
Emma wondered if it was the memory doing that to Ruby or her. Then she stopped wondering about everything as Ruby twisted her foot like she was trying to extinguish a smoldering cigarette butt.  
  
"Don't fight it. You know you don't want to fight it. Traffic is horrible this time of day. Granny won't be back for an hour yet. We can go in back… be alone… you can touch me… or I can touch you… Regina's taught me so much."  
  
Ruby took Emma's hand from where it'd been white-knuckled on the table. She brought it to her breasts, but Emma didn't have it in her to feel them. She just locked her fingers with Ruby's and felt their warmth, clutched to Ruby's chest.  
  
Emma was almost standing, still crammed in the booth but her hips and legs jerking spastically, trying to get Ruby's foot inside her. She wouldn't be a virgin anymore, but she didn't care. She wanted to come. Just once, and then she could be normal again.  
  
Ruby held the heel of her foot against Emma's cunt, too big for her to get inside, wet toes dampening her bunched-up skirt. But just the pressure was so much that Emma couldn't ask for more, couldn't touch herself, couldn't think. She was putty in Ruby's hands, and Ruby wasn't even the puppeteer, just a puppet. An extension of Regina. A pet.  
  
Ruby moved Emma's hand up, off the soft material of her top and onto the infinitely softer skin of her clavicle. And then, up to her leather collar. To the small, decorative metal tag that hung from it. Ruby made Emma take it in her hand, the cold metal burning her feverish skin. Emma opened her eyes, sensing that Ruby was trying to show her something.  
  
There was writing on the tag, too small to see from any distance. It read _Property of Regina Mills_.  
  
Emma felt her body turn hot and wet. Ruby brought her fingers up to her mouth. Took them inside, just like she had Regina, just like she had everything Regina had ever told her to.  
  
"You've been touching yourself, haven't you?" It wasn't a question.  
  
Emma pulled her hand back. She couldn't. She wasn't Ruby, in thrall to Regina, subsumed in her. She wouldn't be. And though her body moved like a crippled, hurting thing, she threw herself out of the booth and away from Ruby.  
  
The other woman set her bare foot down on the tile floor. It was wet.  
  
They stared at each other, Ruby in the booth, Emma against the counter, hanging onto it for dear life. She knew, if Ruby went to her, touched her, kissed her, she would give in. There was only so much she could resist.  
  
But Ruby just sat there. Slowly, making sure Emma could see, she spread her legs. And her hands returned to her apron.  
  
Emma ran outside, the door automatically locking behind her. Even that teensy separation cleared Emma's head a little, let her force in thoughts of baseball and Mitt Romney and kittens. But she still wasn't clear enough to run the right way. She fled around the corner, running back along the building so she passed Ruby at the window.  
  
Ruby was touching herself in earnest now, head tilted back, strands of hair lovingly clinging to her face, held by a sudden sweat. Her open mouth worked in endless circles, widening, closing, but no sound came out. It was all trapped inside, waiting. If Emma stayed, she'd hear her orgasm. Right through the window, where anyone could hear. See.  
  
Even though Ruby's eyes were closed, she still felt Emma's eyes on her. She paused, bringing her fingers to her mouth and tasting their wetness. She made the same face she had when she'd tasted Emma.  
  
"Go see Regina," she mouthed, her hand trailing back down her body. "Go see her."


	11. The Saddle And The Queen

As a little girl, the machines keeping her father alive had scared Emma. She thought of them as a prison keeping him from her. But as she got older, they became reassuring. The ventilator, the IV drip, the heart monitor—a little workplace of lazy activity that replaced the tapping finger, the blinking eye. They were David's signs of life.

 

Emma looked at his chart, now well-versed in all the ways it said he wasn't waking up. Nothing out of place. Everything in order. She set it down and looked her father in his shut eyes.

 

"Dad… I'm gay."

 

As she'd suspected, it was easier telling him than Mary-Margaret. And he seemed to be taking it well. Although if he had woken up then, yelling about grandchildren, she'd be straight again out of sheer gratitude. Or at least bisexual.

 

Not that she thought David would have a problem with it, if he were awake. Mary-Margaret certainly didn't. She watched Ellen, and the only problem she'd had with Brokeback Mountain was that they'd used the F word. But it was different when it was your daughter.

 

Hell, Emma had nothing against gay people and it was different when it was _her._ She felt like she'd been drafted into some big, nebulous cause, one that was betrayed when she liked Hercules better than Xena or played tennis instead of soccer.

 

David hadn't replied, so it was up to her to keep the conversation going. "I know, right? Came as a shock to me too. I met this girl. No, woman. And you know how you always wanted me to marry a dentist or a lawyer? Well, she's the mayor. You can't do much better than that."

 

She sat down on the bed. She couldn't even remember what his voice sounded like, but at times like these, she could imagine she felt his presence. This kind of warmth; it took away pain. "I've never felt this way before. I really want her—I want to be with her. At first, I just liked spending time with her, I thought it was because she was so smart and cool, but now, all I can think about is… doing stuff. And don't get all judgmental about stuff, because I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be here if you hadn't… eww, now I'm thinking about it. Aaand we're both grossed out."

 

Emma stood up and set about pacing. She was successful in not thinking about Regina only in so far as she thought of Ruby instead. _Go see Regina. Go see her._

 

She shook herself to clear that away. "So here's the thing: Should I go to Regina? I haven't been back there since—I mean, I know what'll happen. I feel like if I spend just one more minute with her, I'll explode. And I can't wait; I'm eighteen already, what's there to wait for? Graduation day? College? Like anyone would care what grade I was in if they caught us together… it'd be bullshit. I'm not waiting. I'm either in or out."

 

She started pacing again. It felt like she couldn't control herself, like her legs were determined to bring her back to that house and she could only divert them. "Do these things ever stay secret? Would I even want that? I mean, maybe someday I'd like to go on a date at a fancy restaurant, hold hands, tongue-kiss in public. Do we ever _get_ that? Because people would talk. They'd see me gardening for her and her giving me a car and… God, they'd be asking me to point out where she touched me on a doll. And let's not even talk about Ruby. Even if they could forgive her having one piece of jailbait in her pocket, they'd never understand two. And something like this—it comes out sooner or later. So how long would I have with her? I had no idea about her and Ruby until they practically told me. So, what, I'd have a year? A few years? And then after that… what would my life be like? Would I have to leave town? Would she come with me? Would Ruby come with us? Would we travel the country in a VW Bus, smoking reefer and protesting Vietnam?"

 

With an _ugh_ , Emma dropped herself back in the visitor's chair. She covered her eyes with her hand. "I can't plan for this, okay? I'm not a planner. I just need to know if it'd be worth it. Was it worth it for you, with Mom? I don't know, maybe if you'd never met her, you wouldn't be in a coma."

 

She took her hand away from her face, staring up at the florescent lights droning on. People talked about 'The Light' like it was such a great thing, when it could be annoying. Painful. And she'd seen amazing things happen in the dark…

 

"But then, maybe you were always going to end up like this. Maybe I could go into a coma, drop dead of a brain aneurysm, or get hit by a meteor. At least you have pleasant dreams… so maybe this sends me to Purgatory when I die. At least I'll have memories of her."

 

Emma kissed David on the forehead. As always, his skin felt like stone. Cold and worn smooth. "I'll go do her gardening tomorrow. We'll see what she does."

 

* * *

 

As soon as she fell asleep, Emma was dreaming that she was horseback riding with the Queen. She was naked; the Queen had told her it would help her get used to riding. She didn't remember undressing, just the look on the Queen's lovely face. Her beaming approval. Then, with a hand from the Queen, she was back in the saddle.

 

It felt so different, the saddle and the horseflesh against her naked flesh, but that paled in comparison to having the Queen at her back as they rode the same horse. Regina ready to take the reins if she lost control. Her dress was as soft on Emma's skin as a loving touch.

 

Belle's hide rippled in the dying sunlight like a pond settling down after a pebble had been thrown in. She pranced and trotted as if showing off, and Emma could just imagine her taking a graceful leap as ably as a bird. Every prancing step sent a quaking through her body that only seemed to end where the Queen's arms were wrapped securely about her waist. It took her breath away, sharing this with the Queen. It really did.

 

The air was cool and moist in the evening. She felt it everywhere, but especially keenly on her breasts, seeming to lave her with each rise and fall of breath. Her nipples tightened and rose of their own accord, sending stinging feelings through her chest. An answering tingle between her legs was her clit, rubbing against the saddle horn as she bobbed up and down on Belle's back.

 

"Faster, dear," the Queen said in her ear. Not an order; Regina was so used to being obeyed that she knew she only had to ask. "Ride like all the armies of wicked Snow White are upon us. Show me how you'd save your Queen from death and disgrace."

 

Emma cracked the reins, swearing she could feel the air they displaced brushing across her skin. She was conscious of her whole body, aware of the heated gasps of excitement it produced in illicit pleasure. Her flesh was aquiver; shaking itself to pieces from the fast pace her mount was setting. The Queen's leather riding glove, as cold as ice, traced her spine.

 

"Close to the saddle, my love," her Queen suggested, gentle as an errant whisper. "You want to go faster, don't you?"

 

Emma followed the prompting of the Queen's hand, as if bowing to her. She bent her head over the mane of her wondrous, obedient pet and felt its hair ply her hot breasts. The Queen followed suit, bending herself over Emma like she was sheltering her from harm, like they were two spoons in a drawer.

 

With just one tiny crack of the reins, Belle was whinnying and taking them faster. Hooves thundering at an awesome gallop. The jolts it produced shook Emma like bomb-blasts. Her crotch felt very wet as it was mashed against the smooth leather of her saddle, feeling like a perfect cupping hand had reached between her legs to relieve the awful pressure she felt. She sighed in delight, the sound stolen away by the air rushing past. Her thighs were spasming uncontrollably.

 

"Oh! You're going to knock me off!" the Queen whimpered in mock-fear. She took one hand, the one still in its glove, away from Emma's waist. Left the other splayed across Emma's belly. Her free hand wrapped around the saddle horn. Now the gloriously hard leather seemed to thump against Emma's ready clit, as if being driven by Regina. Emma swallowed hard, wishing for a quick orgasm to banish her arousal. But it was denied her, Belle's muscular flanks pumping below her, sending the saddle humping up against her needy sex, keeping her teetered on the brink of climax.

  
"Woah girl," Regina said, nails scratching chidingly across Emma's stomach. Emma imagined the cool heat of their sharpness going lower, raking over her cunt, her clit, teasing her before going inside. “Not that fast…”

 

Emma had enjoyed the friction of the saddle against her bare crotch so much that she'd allowed Belle free rein, letting the ride take her hard, harder, like a lover bound for release. Now she pulled back on the reins, urging slowness. Her sex was left sensitive to the lightest touch. The gentle, knowing slap of her hard saddle upon her womanhood had her trembling, throbbing, _dripping._

"Easy, girl, easy," Emma soothed, tugging once more on the reins. Their flight had taken them inside a deep, dark forest, where a stray branch might knock them from the saddle. If Snow White really were upon them, here they would lose her.

 

Emma turned, nearly shaking in anticipation, to see her Queen's face. The Queen smiled beatifically. Her fingers stroked Emma's belly, dipping into her navel. “That's it, good girl… Steady now…”

 

The slowdown had set Emma on a plateau, keeping her pleasure on an even keel even as it started up again, pulling her higher, higher. She couldn’t look the Queen in the eye anymore, not with all she was feeling. So the young princess leaned forward. She bent herself nearly double to grip Belle around the neck. Her swollen clit met the firmness of the saddle horn and her breasts scraped against the pony's prickling hair, like a bundle of wires torturing her fair skin.

 

The Queen seemed to enjoy the show. “That's right..." she said, clicking her heels to keep Belle going at a trot, keep the vibrations pulsing through Emma's young body. "Just so…”

 

Just as Emma was getting used to the pain and pleasure the Queen was using to wring her out, she felt the bare and leathered hands of Regina on her hips. They were lifting her up, her bare ass sticking for a moment to the saddle with some of the fluids she'd shed. The riding glove, as cold as ever, swiped a finger along her pussy. The pleasure was exquisite, cutting through her world like a scalpel. Her Queen was being generous.

 

"Faster now," the Queen said, fully amused with herself. Her hands lowered Emma's body back down. Emma only realized she was sitting down on the saddle horn as it was plunging into her slick passage. The pleasure popped inside her like a wineskin filled too full.

 

Then she felt a leather tongue travel down her face, over her chest, and off her nipple. The Queen had a riding crop. " _Ya_ ," Regina said dryly.

 

With a slick _crack_ , the crop came down on Belle's flank. The horse sped up, faster motion bringing Emma new pleasure as the saddle horn jogged inside her pussy. It went places Emma hadn't explored, and she whipped her hips around to take it. She pushed herself madly against the hard leather, grinding and twisting herself on it; over her shoulder, her Queen grinned in approval.

 

"I think you've been in control long enough. I'll take the reins now."

 

The Queen wrapped her arms possessively around Emma to hold the reins. When she cracked them, she rubbed their frayed leather over Emma's clit. Emma squealed, the noise blending with the agitated whinny of Belle as the Queen rhythmically tapped the horse with her riding crop as well. It was the same sort of motion she used on Emma.

 

Belle swished her head back and forth, tail flashing from side to side, hooves pawing the earth. The jerky motions sent ripples right through Emma. Her thighs were clamped down on the pony's sides, her sex flush against the inundated saddle, the saddle horn deep inside her. Emma swayed, repeatedly almost losing her balance if not for Regina's fierce embrace of her. Dizzily, she latched her arms to Belle's neck, leaving only room for the Queen's hands between horse and rider, the Queen and the ceaseless activity of the reins. Leather and bare fingers raked her clit, leaving her no choice but to come.

 

Everything turned both soft and edged, the prickle of Belle's hide against her skin somehow a wondrous massage. She bucked just as Belle was, her golden hair flying over her bare back and across the Queen's smiling face. The world spun.

 

"I'm coming," she whimpered, feeling the Queen's lips on her neck, as sharp an incitement as a riding crop ever was.

 

She rode Belle as if the pony were a bucking bronco, hard jerking thrusts pushing the saddle horn deeper and deeper into her, ramming it into a spot that sent shocks up her body and then dragging it back off. Then, quite clearly, she heard the Queen's crop strike again.

 

Emma held onto Belle's neck for her life as the pony reared up, sandwiching Emma between the saddle and the Queen. It forced the saddle horn as deep inside her as it had ever gone, and she felt herself _gush_.

 

"Give your queen… her royal due," Regina whispered in her ear. They came back down, Belle's hooves firmly thumping on the ground. The saddle horn jerked once more inside Emma and the girl came, or came again, she couldn't tell anymore. Seized by her orgasm, she felt herself slip from the saddle.

 

Regina grabbed her hand, then slowly lowered her down, finally letting go. Emma slipped down like melting butter, landing in a stack of hay. The Queen had brought her back to the stables and Emma hadn't even noticed.

 

The brisk feel of the hay on her skin gave her a rush. She came down from the insurmountable heights of her orgasm like she was jumping off a cliff, finding goose bumps dotting her body, sweat washing out her skin, air refusing to settle in her lungs. She was a living mess, and she only had one thought.

 

"More!"

 

The Queen appeared totally spent herself. Her body hung atop the saddle like a wet garment strung up on a clothesline, slumped back with knees pressed close like she was protecting her sex—or hiding what Emma had done to it.

 

In one smooth motion, she dismounted, standing over Emma with the riding crop white-knuckled in her bare hand. "You never answered my question, princess. Do you want to get fucked?"

 

Emma finally felt herself able to take a deep breath. "More than _anything."_

The Queen rapped her hiding crop in her other hand. "Spread your legs. Belle's done being ridden for the day. I do believe it's your turn."


	12. Hi-ho Swan, away!

That was when Emma woke up.

 

She sat up in bed, her skin awash with sweat, her hair practically dripping with it. Without her bedsheet covering her, she could feel the air flicker against her moist skin. But one place in particular. Between her legs.

 

That wasn't sweat. Emma had soaked through both her panties and the sweatpants she'd worn to bed. She couldn't remember the last time she'd come so hard.

 

Wait… as a matter of fact, she could. It was when Regina had massaged her. She hadn't even been at first base, not really, and yet it'd practically been monsoon season.

 

Emma checked her clock. She'd come home from the diner and felt so drained from talking with Ruby that she'd just fallen into bed. It was eight o'clock. Mary-Margaret would be at a parent-teacher conference all night. God forbid she walk in on this. She had time to strip her bed, put new sheets on, and get the old ones in the washer.

 

"Oh shit!" she'd gotten out of bed too fast and now she felt her legs trembling like she'd just stepped off a roller coaster. She leaned against a bedpost, trying to catch her suddenly lacking breath. She could've sworn her pussy was boiling over.

 

Emma reached down to feel it, just to relieve the pressure, and even now she was surprised to feel how wet she was. And how good her finger felt, just lightly touching her pussy. Her eyes closed. She ran her finger lower, along the lines of her labia, and a tremor shot through her, shaking her arm nearly off the bedpost supporting her. That didn't matter; if she could just make it to the wall, she could lean herself against it, spread her legs and _fuck herself_ like a rutting animal, both hands, one in her pussy, one relieving the aching hardness of her nipples where they strained against her thin cotton tee.

 

"Jesus!" Emma gasped, forcing her hand away. She could've been burning up, the way she felt. She could've been absolutely on fire. "Ice water," she told herself, and concentrated only on moving her legs out the door and down the stairs. With shakes that seemed like willful insolence, they obeyed. She went down the steps with both hands on the railings.

 

She shuddered with each step, but when she threw open the refrigerator and felt the cold air hit her body, it calmed her down a little. At least she stopped shaking, and with an effort, she could forgot Regina kneeling over her, raising the riding crop high, about to bring it down somewhere exquisitely sensitive…

 

"Fuck!" Emma cried, practically humping the freezer trying to calm down. What the hell did you take to stop being a ridiculous slut? There had to be some kind of tea for that. Emma looked through the shelves and drawers, finding only things she could eat off of Regina. God, imagine Regina biting a peeled orange, the juice rolling down her chin, dripping to her breasts like an invitation to be wiped away—licked off.

 

Reaching absently into the vegetable drawer, Emma felt a fat cucumber in her hand. She took it out and pressed it against her face, the icy weight doing a little to distract her once more. She was going mad with thoughts of Regina, but damn, what a madness. Like sanity had anything to offer compared to how Regina made her feel.

 

Suddenly, she felt a new tremor, stronger than ever, run through her. Pulling the cold cucumber away from her face, she looked at it once more. She hadn't realized it, but her body had: the vegetable was just the right size to be one of the 'toys' Regina and Ruby had played with, or the Queen's royal scepter as she made Emma her princess in a painfully, perfectly intimate fashion. To be one of those dildos that women wore to fuck other women.

 

It was big, and very, very thick, but not intimidatingly so. More of a challenge. She could picture, in vivid detail, Regina lubing her up and gently plying her until she could take it all, telling her what a good girl she was all the while, asking how good it felt. And it would feel so… amazing.

 

Looking around for onlookers she knew she wouldn't find, Emma bent her head to the cucumber and gave it a peck of a kiss. There were tiny bumps on its sides; the kind that she'd read about on the dildos in some very regrettable Teen Wolf fanfiction. She kissed it again, and again, already feeling dirty. And, more importantly, feeling Regina's approving gaze on her, even if it was only in her head. To an imaginary nod from the Mayor, she took the cucumber and sucked its blunt end into her mouth. Sliding it over her wriggling tongue. Getting it wet, ready. Perfect.

 

"Okay," she muttered, drawing the cucumber away with a strand of saliva between them, proof of what had transpired. "Let's do this. Let's do it.."

 

Like a shot fired from a cannon, she ran back upstairs. Her bedroom door closed behind her; she moved some books in front of the door to bar it, her version of a lock. Regretfully, she set the cucumber down on her desk, then stripped off her T-shirt. Her breasts felt even warmer in the cool air, her nipples hard as cherry pits. When she picked the cucumber back up, she knew it was still too cold to bring her any pleasure down there. But she also knew how to fix that.

 

Emma held the cucumber to her breasts with a sharp intake of breasts. It was damn cold. Cold as Regina grabbing Ruby with a leather glove, or teasing her with an ice cube. She moved the cucumber around, the chill never lingering. She let it touch her breasts, her belly, her thighs. It was magnificent. She squeezed her legs tightly shut on the cucumber, wondering if that would've impressed Regina. Again, the woman flashed before her closed eyes. She imagined the Queen with her riding crop at her mouth. Who knew where it had been before, what delectable taste lingered on it.

 

"Nice and warm, Emma," Regina would say. "We have to thaw our food out before it goes in the oven."

 

Emma opened her eyes, half-expecting the Mayor to really be standing there. But all she saw was her reflection in the mirror, where she'd tried on a thousand outfits and checked her make-up a million times.

 

She'd never looked like this before. Naked, her body not girlish at all, but curved and flushed, sweaty and aroused, and the look on her face one she'd never cultivated. Wanton. Lustful. Greedy. She brought the cucumber to her mouth and licked it. It looked exactly how she'd thought it would look. Slutty. And she knew Regina would be impressed by _that._

"You know the warmest place to put it," Regina whispered in her ear, from wherever she was. "You know where you're burning."

 

The cucumber moved between Emma's breasts. She rolled them together, trapping the cucumber inside, its coldness forgotten as her cleavage burned hotter.

 

"Yes, Emma. Get it nice and hot." Was that Regina's riding crop, clenched tightly at her side? Tapping against her leg like it was keeping time? Would Regina fuck herself on its thick, blunt handle at the same time Emma took the cucumber inside herself, sharing the arousal, working toward the same orgasm?

 

Emma rolled the tip of the cucumber around their nipples. Their hardness became painful, but she didn't mind. She was building up a very high tolerance for pain.

 

"Take off your pants," the Regina in her head ordered, the riding crop rubbing at the corner of her mouth as she spoke. "Now. Set the cucumber aside, my lovely little chick."

 

Reluctantly, Emma set the cucumber down on her desk. She faced the mirror again, as if it were one-way glass with Regina on the other end. Watching her. Only her. Meeting her own lustful eyes, Emma peeled her sweatpants and panties away. When she saw her golden pubic hair, turned dark by moisture, a blast of lust hit her dead-center. It was like she was watching someone else in the mirror. Someone she was going to fuck.

 

"The cucumber again," Regina instructed. Emma picked it back up. It was cool to the touch, but just barely. It was ready and so was she.

 

Emma sat down on the bed. Her reflection looked nervous for a moment, but only a moment. Her legs spread. She didn't think about it, they just did. She saw her cunt, pink and wet, come into view. It was hers, but seeing it was shocking. Obscene, almost.

 

Somehow, she liked obscene.

 

"You want to see me fuck myself with this?" she asked herself, the mirror, Regina. The word sounded heavy and real out of her lips. _Fuck._ "You want to see me come all over this?"

 

The riding crop snapped to, a little short of her ear. A reminder that only one of them was in control. "Why waste time on silly questions? You know what I want to see. The same thing as you do." And there it was. Emma could never touch herself in a brightly lit room, on top of the covers, watching herself in a mirror. But if it was what Regina wanted…

 

When she touched the cucumber to the lips of her pussy, it was perfectly chilled, like ice water after a long run or the first bite of a chocolate sundae. She gasped regardless, knowing Regina would like the sound. Her hand went to her breast, still cool from holding the vegetable. The contrast between her palm and her tit felt so huge that she could imagine steam coming off her body. Her body heaving, shaking out of control, she thrust the cucumber inside.

 

It hurt like hell. She'd thought she'd been wet enough to take all of it; she damn sure wanted to. But fuck, it felt three times bigger than it looked!

 

"Woah girl," Regina said, whispering soothingly as Emma painfully drew the intruder away from her tender flesh. "Not that fast… slow down…"

 

Emma set the cucumber aside, its weight making it sink a little ways into her firm mattress. Jesus. Could she really take that thing inside her? But the shade of Regina just toyed with her crop, plying its end back and forth as she offered Emma a wan smile.

 

"Giddy-up," she ordered.

 

Emma's hands returned to her breasts, nice and slow, her fingers plying her ready body as playfully, as effectively, as Regina would use her riding crop. Her body responded; she felt the pain she'd incurred fade into a warm feeling of bliss. A warm, moist feeling. She squeezed her breasts harder, pinched her nipples tighter, and slowly, in its own due time, a hand strayed down to once more explore the crevice of her thighs.

 

"Faster now," Regina called, bending the crop to its limit. "Let's stretch our legs."

 

Emma parted her lips and ran her tongue over them slowly. She imagined Regina kissing her. She could only conjure up a hazy feeling, a flash of heat and pleasure, of suddenly feeling experienced beyond her years—the kiss she'd had a waking dream of as she slept in Regina's bed. But then, was it a dream, when it felt so much realer than anything else?

 

She couldn't even imagine Regina's full, perfect lips touching hers, but she didn't have to imagine Regina using a dildo, a strap-on, a _cock_ to fuck her. She had one right beside her. Emma scooted down the bed as if making room for Regina, then spread her legs. She could smell her own arousal, heady and thick in the air. She imagined the barest touch of the riding crop against her wet pussy, then Regina carrying it away from Emma's body and her pouting expression, only to run it over her outstretched tongue. A master chef sampling her work.

 

Emma picked up the cucumber. It was so phallic—pornographic, really. Regina cleared her throat, breaking Emma's reverie. The riding crop was pointed at the nightstand, where Emma kept a bottle of dry skin lotion.

 

"Would that really work?" Emma started to ask Regina, before remembering she was imagining her. God, Regina really was driving her crazy. Next she'd start seeing fairies.

 

She picked up the bottle. Nothing on the back about it being "for external use only," which was corporate-speak meaning not for sex. Setting the cucumber on her thigh—it nearly reached her knee, _holy shit_ —she squirted a big blotch out into her hand. Then she scooped the cucumber up and… got it ready.

 

"That's it," Regina said, flicking her crop up and down the cucumber as well. "It's not too big. You just need to be… well-prepared."

 

"It's so big…"

 

"My fist's even bigger. You think Ruby took that?"

 

Emma looked at Regina. The figment of her imagination winked.

 

The hell of it was, if she asked Ruby, the bitch would tell her.

 

The cucumber was dripping with… lubricant. It was lubricant. Emma brought it to… her pussy. Those were the words for them. Lubricant and pussy. That was what Regina would call them. Gathering herself, she pressed the big, fat, thick, _monstrous_ cucumber into the soft gold down of her pussy. Into the hungry lips of her sex. Her legs opened wide. Her thighs quivered. Her mouth dropped open as she felt it inside her, a great big _fucker._

"R-regina." Like an invocation, the name summoned pleasure. She could just picture the Mayor leaning over her, examining her deflowering with feigned disinterest, but behind her eyes… in her twitching lips… all the lust of the world was there.

 

"Good girl," Regina would say, running the riding crop… oh, Emma couldn't even _think_ of where she'd put it. "Good girl…"

 

Whimpering now, Emma felt her hips move of their own accord, undulating as if… yes, as if at the urging of Regina's invisible crop. She felt herself slowly stretching, malleable, pliable, moving to accommodate an _invasion._ Just as she would for Regina. She'd submit to Regina, be bent over, spread open, pushed down, hoisted up. And the cucumber went deeper and deeper. And she opened for it, so eagerly. Like she'd been waiting for it all this time.

 

"Fuck!" Emma called, a cry, a wish, and the recurring realization of just how _big_ her phantom lover was. She'd gotten only an inch inside herself, less even then when she fingered herself in the shower, but she felt like she'd been stretched to the limit. Then—she could've _sworn_ —she felt Regina's riding crop sting her still hips.

 

"Take it," Regina ordered. "Stop being a little bitch and _take it."_

Emma had to obey. Regina was more than just some fantasy. She was all Emma's hidden desires, her needs, her wants, her fearless dreams. Emma couldn't control her, nor disobey her. She could only let Regina, real or imagined, have her way with her.

 

The mouth of her sex felt more comfortable now, a few moments later, as if her very flesh answered to Regina. She pressed the cucumber deeper, without hesitation, and there was another shot of pain ringing through her body. But less then before, receding on waves of warm, pleasant relaxation. And soon, even that went away, replaced with pure excitement. Pleasure.

 

"I wish you were here," Emma moaned, closing her eyes so she could see only Regina. "Because the only way I'd stop fucking myself with this cucumber is if I could pull it out and make you taste me on it." She didn't even sound like herself to her own ears.

 

Regina put the riding crop to her mouth, silencing her. "How can I ride my favorite horsey when she's flat on her back like a two-dollar whore earning her wages?"

 

Emma obeyed this strange loop in her head, imagining what Regina would say and then doing as she'd say and getting off on both. She rolled onto all fours, her legs bent at the knee, one elbow planted in the mattress, her free hand white-knuckled on the cucumber. Her sex was up in the air, completely exposed. Presented for Regina's enjoyment.

 

"Hi-ho Silver," Regina said cheerily. " _Away."_

 

Emma's hips swayed. Her knees bent. She rode the cucumber like it was… like it was a stallion.

 

"A ride fit for a queen," Regina praised, tracing the riding crop over Emma's pussy as it eagerly embraced the cucumber. "Or a princess—stop there!" She commanded suddenly, the crop flicking against Emma's ass. "Pull back. Just a little. Now back in…"

 

Emma's legs almost slipped out from under her as she dragged the cucumber out… then obeyed Regina, to the letter. Forcing it just a little, she tried going deeper. It wouldn’t happen. She was still too tight, too clenched, and if it weren't for the crop soothingly stroking her lower back, she'd think she'd failed Regina.

 

"Yes. Just so. Not all at once, no, just a little at a time. Just the tip. And we go deeper every time, Emma… deeper and faster… all the time… just like that."

 

Emma obeyed. She obeyed every little word that dropped from Regina's perfect lips. The cucumber seemed to go in mere millimeters at a time, each time with a twinge of pain and a flush, a much larger flush, of pleasure.

 

"Ride, Emma. Faster. _Faster."_

Emma nodded to herself as the lips of her cunt slid over the cucumber. It went in easier now, like it wanted to be inside her. She opened her eyes. There was Regina below her, her fingers locked with Emma's, holding the cucumber for her to fuck herself on.

 

"Ride me."

 

"Fuh- _faster_!" Emma wasn't sure who was giving the orders anymore, who was taking them. All she knew was that she couldn't stop speaking, moaning, sighing, _fucking._ She bent over her supporting forearm like she was leaning against a horse's neck, imagining that power—Regina's power—inside her legs. "Faster, Regina! Carry me away!"

 

She was responding more and more to the masturbation, losing herself in it. Her whole body felt like it was seething, giving into this fantasy. She could still feel the sting of the riding crop as well as the tingle where Regina had used it for a tender touch. She bucked wildly on the bed, crooning away as the feverish work continued below her, inside her.

 

It felt amazing, yet bitter. She could never quite forget that it wasn't real. She was only fucking herself because Regina wasn't. And no matter how vividly she fantasized that it was Regina's hand reaming her virgin cunt or imagined that Regina could hear the incoherent murmurs of her name, it remained pure fantasy. Yet above it all, even the realization, was Regina's voice, keeping her masturbation going like a metronome.

 

"Steady now... that's it… that's right... just so… good girl… such a good girl…"

 

Somehow, that spoiled it, kept her from completion. She imagined Regina entering her room on some errand, finding her lewdly exposed, being overcome with lust, ripping the cucumber away and replacing it with her lips. Or a horse, a powerful stallion, galloping faster than the wind, obeying only her, the only rider who could mount her.

 

Then she felt the supreme pain, something blocking the cucumber from going any deeper. Something keeping her a virgin. And it was fragile, she knew. The work of a painful second to end it.

 

"Do it!" Regina cried, and the riding crop was snapping again, going up and down, but not on Emma, on herself, on her cunt. She was punishing herself, fucking herself, right next to Emma, about to come with her. "Now! Do it now! _Ya! Ya!_ "

 

Emma couldn't deny Regina anything. Not one thing.

 

But that was when she heard her mother opening the door to her bedroom.

 

It caught on the books she'd piled in front of it, opening only a crack, giving Emma time to throw her naked body beneath the sheets. She was wrenched in spasms, gasping and twitching as her hands flew off her overheated skin. The cucumber came out of her with a wet sucking noise, like it was reluctant to leave, and fell between her legs. She covered it with her bed sheet as Mary-Margaret pushed the books out of the way.

 

All she saw was Emma's head and feet, sticking out of the tangled linen.

 

"Oh, sorry, I didn't know you were asleep. Thanks to your friend the mayor, our meeting wrapped up early. I got fudge brownie ice cream if you want any."

 

One part of Emma's mind still had Emma's riding crop burnt into it like a brand. She would've given anything to still be feeling the wicked pain from a rapping right now. "That's okay," Emma said at length, forcing herself to take long, deep breaths.

 

"And have you seen a cucumber anywhere? I bought one to make a salad and I can't seem to find it anywhere."

 

Emma tried to contain herself as she thought of just where it was, and where it had been. Sweat bloomed on her forehead. "I'll keep an eye out for it."

 

"Do you feel hot?" Mary-Margaret asked, suddenly concerned. She crossed the room, hand outstretched for Emma's forehead. "You look like you're running a fever…"

 

Emma pulled the covers up to her chin. "Mom, I'm fine! I just want to get back to sleep."

 

Her mother paused over Emma, running her lip between her teeth. "Alright, sweetie," she said at last, and kissed Emma's head. Emma closed her eyes and tried to erase the lingering memory, fantasy, of Regina. It had all felt great—fucking great. "Pleasant dreams!"

 

Emma forced her eyes open. "You too, Ma."

 

Thankfully, Mary-Margaret shut the door behind her. Emma waited five minutes, or tried to—she was out of bed in two, throwing on clothes. She had to see Regina, right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I am fudging the... ahem... technical details of the hymen... stuff... in favor of a more "romance novel-y" approach. Hopefully it's not egregiously inaccurate--it's all just stretching anyway, so there's a bit of stretching here and, uhm... more later on. But hey, no one wants to read "And now, Emma, we consummate our love. I'll be gentle, seeing as it's your first time." "Actually, I fucked a cucumber on the way over, go nuts."
> 
> Wait, now I actually do kinda want to read that...


	13. I Want You

Emma dropped her bike in Regina's yard. She was dressed in jeans and a denim jacket, her blouse the one she wore to church, her bra and panties plain Hanes but clean as could be. Not exactly a picture of seduction, but Storybrooke got cold at night and she wanted to survive the ride over.

 

She paced on the lawn a moment, trying to think of what to stay, then just took the key Regina had given her and unlocked the door. No more waiting. The words would come. They would.

 

The house was dark, quiet. No Ruby. Emma could just tell. She crept through the empty house, sneaking one moment and almost stampeding the next. Finally, she came to Regina's bedroom. She stopped. Raised her hand to knock, then brought it back down. Lower and lower, until she touched the doorknob. It turned.

 

Inside, the curtains were open, letting in just a trickle of light from the moon. The moonlight ran like quicksilver over everything; Emma caught a glimpse of a coiled figure in the king-sized bed before a cloud passed over the moon. The only light was dull, peeking over her shoulder from the hallway outside. Afraid it would wake her, Emma slipped inside and shut the door behind her.

 

The eclipse ended. The light spread slowly, touching the bed, then satin sheets, then a pair of arms crossed together, fingers interlocked as if in prayers. The nails were painted as red as fresh apples; the color shot out at Emma through the white bed sheets and silver light. Regina.

 

She stepped closer. The curtains shifted, the light with it. She could now see Regina's hair, spilling over her pillow; her eyes moving under shut eyelids. Her lips, pale but still with the washed-out remnants of her lipstick, like dried blood on a vampire's mouth. They moved with each breath, not making a sound. Making it seem as if Regina was whispering something. Emma never stopped herself. She drew closer and closer, eager to hear.

 

It was funny how innocent Regina looked as she slept, considering how her sexuality had fixed itself in Emma's mind. Her face relaxed somehow; there was something about her that didn't ache. She seemed very young and a little vulnerable, lying there. Emma imagined her first time, Emma's age or younger, or older. How had she described it? All she'd said was that it had been amazing.

 

But she couldn't have known that going in. She'd have been nervous, scared. And she probably hadn't had to wake her lover up first. Maybe Emma should put on coffee?

 

No. No, she shouldn't. Emma bent over Regina, not quite sure what she was doing as she did it. Regina's hot breath caressed her cheek as their faces drew closer. And Emma realized: _I'm going to kiss her._

Their lips met like—Regina would laugh if she heard Emma say this—magnets. Like there'd been something keeping them apart and now it'd been removed, nature was taking its course, they were kissing. At first, they were just touching mouths and Emma didn't see what the big deal was. Then Regina awoke.

 

She responded enthusiastically, took it to another level. Emma felt a tongue in her mouth, stimulating places she didn't know she had, and a hand on the back of her neck, the nails dug into her skin. It tingled, her lips tingled, her whole damn body tingled.

 

Emma only opened her eyes when Regina drew back. She saw Regina staring back at her, Sleeping Beauty awoken by Princess Charming. Her eyes were a deep, rich brown, expensive chocolate, polished leather. The big brown eyes of a Disney character. Emma giggled a little, pulling back some, working it down to a smile as she bit her lip. She imagined she could still taste Regina, but if she could, Regina tasted vaguely of her raspberry lip gloss.

 

"Am I dreaming?" Regina asked her.

 

"No. I, uh," Emma didn't know what to do with her hands. She caught one making for Regina's bare arm, trying to stroke it. "Had to see you."

 

"See me?" Those big brown eyes slanted a little. "I don't think those were your eyes I felt on my lips."

 

"Sorry—not, like, _that_ sorry." Emma giggled again. What the hell was wrong with her? _Why was she giggling?_ "I can't stop thinking about you. And I don't want to. Stop. I just want to do more than think."

 

Oh God. Oh, _God._ Could that sound lamer? Emma stood up—her butt had almost parked itself on Regina's mattress—and almost ran out the door. The only thing stopping her was that, in the dark and unfamiliar room, she'd probably run into a closet. What was she _saying_? This sounded ridiculous, all of it, everything was just—

 

Regina reached out and took her hand. Immediately, Emma felt a kind of warmth. Not in her hand. In her breast. "I feel the same way." Regina's long, bare legs flashed out from under the covers and settled on the floor as she sat up. Emma could've gasped; even in the moonlight they had a golden glow, runner's muscles, a perfect tan. Her mind blitzed her with images of running her tongue over every languid curve of them.

 

And Regina felt the same way. Wait, as what? As _her_?

 

"As me?" Emma asked, strangling another giggle.

 

Regina smiled—Emma had to think it—lovingly. "Yes, Emma. As you." Then she darkened, brow furrowing. "I've had no idea what to do about it. There've been other girls, but they were… arrangements. There was fondness, affection, but we always understood there was a limit on it. With you—I feel like I'm someone else. Someone I can't control."

 

Emma's mind was racing, no, exploding. She'd never even imagined this. She thought Regina might wake up and present her with a contract like Ruby's—Form 32B, for kinky lesbian sex. And that was enough, that was more than enough. But to hear that Regina had some kind of… _feelings_ …

 

"You're so beautiful," Regina said, as if sensing Emma's swirling fears. She stood, seeming to tower over Emma. A comforting shelter. "And so young, in the best possible way. Full of hope and love. You have so much love to give, don't you Emma? And so few are worthy of all that you have to offer."

 

Her hand slipped up from the folds of her robe. She was wearing some kind of kimono, covering her from shoulder to floor. Even her feet were covered. It drove Emma wild, imagining her under that. Was her skin was sweaty as Emma's had been? Did she have as many goosepimples? Were her breasts rising and falling with the same panting breaths.

 

Regina's hand approached Emma's face. Emma thought she might melt before it got there. "But because you're so young…" Regina spoke haltingly, her hand stopped, quivering, in mid-air. "People might not understand. Even I don't… understand. I feel this connection to you—"

 

"I feel it too! Because it's real!" Emma sounded like she was pleading.

 

Regina smiled. Her hand dipped closer. "I know it is. But… Emma, are you sure you know what you're getting into? I won't pretend you're the first…"

 

"I know about Ruby."

 

Regina's eyes darted around for a moment before returning to Emma. "Ruby I can… handle. This town sees her a certain way. You… you're the schoolmarm's daughter. Have you thought this through, Emma? Really thought it through? We'd never be able to… attend a wedding together, or hold an anniversary dinner, or even own a dog!"

 

"We could go to the wedding separately and meet up there. We could tell everyone the anniversary dinner is for Columbus Day or whatever. The dog could spend half a week at my place and half a week at yours!"

 

Regina's smile was achingly perfect. That was the look of a woman in love, Emma thought, it had to be. It was so beautiful. "I'm not even sure what to do now."

 

"I'd really like to kiss you again," Emma blurted out. "Or, uh—" She touched the tips of her pointer fingers together. "We could do what you did with Ruby."

 

"I don't think you're quite ready for that." Regina's hand dropped to her side. "Maybe you could come back in the morning and we could… watch a movie. If Mary-Margaret's noticed you're gone, she must be worried si—"

 

Emma surged forward, meeting her lips with Regina's like a battering ram hitting a gate. She heard Regina actually squeak and finally, _finally,_ felt the Mayor's hands settle around her body. Just on her hips, and the small of her back, but it felt like a leg she'd been favoring had finally stopped hurting.

 

They only stopped when Regina staggered backward along with Emma, her legs hit the bed, and she fell over. Landed on her back atop the bed, her kimono falling open to her collarbone and one long leg emerging whole from the slit. Emma stood over her, wondering what was stopping her from lying on top of Regina and kissing her until she found someplace better to put her lips.

 

"I need you," Emma said, shucking off her jacket. Regina watched, her eyes gratifyingly wide, as Emma stripped off her good blouse. "I've been thinking about this… forever! I need it, okay? I just…" She opened up her belt and peeled her jeans down, kicking those off before she let herself think anymore.

 

Regina sat up and Emma felt herself fall into silent. She just stood there, in her bra and panties. She'd never been naked in front of a woman before. Hell, no one had seen her naked, other than Leroy in that unfortunate skinny-dipping incident two summers ago. She was almost ready to take off her bra, her panties, but she couldn't. The realization hit like a bomb: she wanted Regina to do it. She wanted Regina to be the one kissing her, touching her, making love to her, not the other way around. She wanted to be wanted.

 

She almost cried at the sudden thought that Regina didn't want her, that this was all… letting her down easy. She sniffled and bit her lip and controlled herself as Regina scooted to the edge of the bed.

 

"It's amazing," Regina said slowly, reaching out reverently to place two fingers on Emma's stomach. She looked up at Emma, for permission, and evidently got it. Her fingers brushed over Emma's skin. Not anywhere… naughty, but not where she was usually touched either. Over her ribs, just over her panties; it was like Regina was literally getting a feel for her. "Amazing that such beauty walks our streets and no one pays homage to it."

 

"I love you, Regina." The words flew out of Emma's mouth. Then she giggled again, _damnit._ "Who else could I possibly be in love with?"

 

Regina looked up at her, her eyes big and brown again. "Are you sure you want this? Do you want me?"

 

"Yes," Emma breathed.

 

Regina leaned back onto her elbows, splaying herself before Emma. Her legs were almost bare, and most definitely parted. "Then have me."

 

"I don't… know…" Emma could barely breathe. Her mind was empty, all Regina, all the time, and yet a million places to kiss and touch and feel were displaying themselves right behind her eyes. She thought she'd been turned on before, but nothing could compare to the real thing, Regina Mills, beckoning her on, next to naked. Hers to undress, to make love to… "I don't know what to do either."

 

Regina dropped on her back. She crossed her legs. "Well… that part I do have some ideas about." She cocked her head. "Do you know what I was going to do before you got here?"

 

Emma shook her head. It seemed like a major accomplishment.

 

"I was going to touch myself."

 

Emma could've fainted.

 

"Would you like to watch that?"

 

"I'd like to help." Emma had no idea where that came from. A moment ago, she'd been sure she'd gone mute.

 

Regina reached down and untied the belt of her kimono. "Undress me."

 

Emma bent over Regina, hands going to her body as carefully as a surgeon working with a scalpel. Her hands felt like someone else's as they gently grasped either side of the robe, the material as soft as clouds between her fingers, and drew them aside.

 

This time, Emma did gasp.

 

All Regina wore was a nightie, cut high and with a hem that went across mid-thigh. On those terms, it was quite modest. But the material it was made out of was far thinner than the kimono, virtually gossamer. It was also almost translucent. With the barest effort, Emma could see everything underneath—Regina's skin, turned into alabaster by the combination of the moonlight and the tinting nightie. Her nipples, poking through the nightie, a deep, rich red that stood out on the white plain of her body like bonfires. And down below, between her legs—no, that was still hidden, a secret of shadows and clothing.

 

"Touch me," Regina murmured, eyes closed, head tilted back.

 

How could she? What if she got it wrong? What if she tickled her or prodded a bruise or, or ripped her dress?

 

Emma stood there, unable to move.

 

Regina's eyes opened sinuously. They settled on Emma like a snake eying a bird. "Are you scared?"

 

"Nervous," Emma corrected hastily.

 

"It's okay to be nervous." Regina propped herself up on one perfect arm, a shoulder strap falling down the other. "But you don't have to be scared. You're with me. This is just… a story you haven't told yet. There's no right or wrong thing to do. There's just things to learn." She reached out and took Emma's hand, a cheeky grin blooming. Emma couldn't help herself. She smiled along. "Things to learn about you… things to learn about me…" She brought Emma's hand to her mouth. Shortish fingernails, no nail polish. She kissed its back. "I want to know everything about you."

 

She kept kissing Emma's hand, over the fingers, the knuckles, the thumb, the webbing between fingers. Emma wondered if she could taste where she'd touched herself, smell it like a dab of perfume.

 

With one last, succulent suck on Emma's finger, Regina stopped playing and moved the hand over her face. Against her cheek, then down her throat. She made Emma feel her skin. It was warm, and goosepimpled like her body was clamoring for attention. Just like Emma's. Regina fed herself on Emma's touch, running the hand across her body from shoulder strap to shoulder strap. Her skin was clear, smooth, and warm. And human. Not untouchable, not unapproachable. Just a girl.

 

Then Regina lowered Emma's hand to her breast.

 

"Oh!" Emma said helplessly.

 

Regina smiled up at her, biting her lip in a show of nervousness. She covered it up quickly. "Do you like them?"

 

"Yes! Of course I do! They're… wow!"

 

Regina's face settled into smugness. "Yes, I like to think so. Feel it. Take your time. I know you want to."

 

As if she were tending a flower, Emma applied the slightest pressure. Regina's breast creased under her touch, filling her hand. It was soft. Impossibly soft, silk layered over silk, all warm like they'd spent the day soaking in sunlight. Her nipple was a tiny, perfect core of hardness in Emma's palm. Emma brought her hand back to touched it, amazed at the pebbled surface, the textured feel of it—and the way Regina's eyes closed as she was handled. Everything was so like her own body, only… more so. Finished. Perfected.

 

"Could you," Emma bit her lip, "could you turn around please?"

 

Regina's eyes fluttered open. "I get it. Hard to concentrate while I'm looking at you. Easier if we can do this a little blind. Or maybe you're just an ass-woman, eh?"

 

"No!" Emma said quickly. "I mean, not that there's anything wrong with your ass…"

 

"How would you know?" Regina asked, shrugging her kimono off. "Unless you check?"

 

She turned over. Her bare ass peeked out from beneath her nightie. It was glorious. Tight and sleek, yet… substantial somehow, like a piece of fruit that'd ripened on the vine for the exact right length of time. There was just enough of it, toned and the same gilded color as the rest of Regina. Emma could just picture her sunbathing nude, making her whole body perfect…

 

And as she stood there, gaping, Regina rolled her ass at Emma like a stripper. Her nightie ended up scrunched over the ripe curves of her ass like magic. It nearly gave Emma a stroke.

 

The way she just stood there, she might've had one anyway.

 

Regina worked her way up to her knees, her nightie falling back over her. Internally, Emma screamed, but stopped when Regina reached back to touch her face. Her fingers moved as lightly as feathers. "You know, I've told a lot of people to kiss my ass." The fingers, shy but insistent, ushered Emma to her knees. "Maybe it's time someone actually does it."

 

And with a smile fixed on her face, Regina turned back around and presented her ass to an Emma no longer able to resist. She only had to do as she was told.

 

Leaning forward, Emma kissed the flare of Regina's wide hips. Nothing happened. No cops burst in, no laughing pranksters spilled out of a closet, no phone rang to interrupt them. Just a breathy little moan from Regina, barely there at all.

 

Emma moved along, pecking at Regina's waist, the small of her back, quick, breathless little snips of passion. Regina moaned again, but impatiently. She looked over her shoulder at Emma, expectantly. And, obeying her gaze, Emma moved lower. Into the places a bikini would cover.

 

She made a line right down the curve of Regina's ass, not too deep into unknown territory but decidedly _there_ , and kissed her way to the back of Regina's thigh. Then she went back up, and kissed the sensitive flesh closer to the crevice. She remembered Regina massaging her there, how odd it'd felt to be touched somewhere she barely ever thought of. Was Regina used to the sensation or—

 

"Good girl," Regina said sweetly, virtually purring. Her body flicked up and down like a cat's. Emma had to move with her to keep kissing her, and she did. It wasn't just the feel of her ass; the way the flesh seemed more tender there. It was the knowledge that she was doing something she shouldn't, with someone she shouldn't, and getting away with it. If anyone ever found out, it wouldn't be for a long, long time.

 

Only now she didn't know what to do with her hands. Should she… touch herself? That kinda took a lot of concentration, at least if you wanted to do it right. And Emma hadn't cut her fingernails in a while. Maybe she should touch Regina? But then she just ran into the same problem as before. How did you touch a goddess? Wouldn't she smite you?

 

Emma moved to the other side of the ass, marking possibly the only time Regina Mills had turned the other cheek in her life, and as she did she set her hands on Regina's ankles. As if she were holding her down. As if she could.

 

"Oh," Regina went. "Mmm."

 

Emma had no idea if that was a good "Oh—mmm" or a bad one. Regina had her face happily buried in the bedspread, smile covered by her own hair. Emma moved her hands up, feeling the corded muscles in Regina's calves.

 

"Uh-huh," Regina muttered gently. "Yeah."

 

Emma went further, _licking_ Regina from thigh to waist as her hands trailed up the mayor's thighs. When she looked again, Regina was biting her sheets. That was a good thing, right?

 

Her hands kept moving, making an executive decision to reach around Regina and dip between her legs. Emma only realized it when she felt what was there.

 

"Oh God. Oh God, you're so wet."

 

"Mmmmm," went Regina, definitely purring as she all-foured down the bed, her hips wagging from side to side even more than did when she walked. She turned over, her thighs crossing coquettishly. When Emma saw her face, she was biting her plump lip. "Taste me."

 

Panic ran through Emma like ice water. She couldn't do that, eat a girl out! She'd only ever _seen_ that on The L Word, during Showtime's free preview week, and if there was more to it than shaking your head over a pair of panties, Emma didn't know it.

 

"Emma, come here," Regina said insistently, uncrossing her legs. Oh God. Oh Christ. She was _dripping._

"I…" Emma began, finding herself crawling onto the bed along with Regina.

 

"It's alright," Regina assured her, moving her thigh to bop Emma's head. Her grin infectious once more. "It won't bite you. I might, so you're far safer down there than up here."

 

"Well," Emma said, and didn't have anything after that. "Wuh-wuh-well…"

 

"Do you stutter?" Regina asked.

 

"I don't think so… so…"

 

"Just come down here," Regina plied, moving her hand over her nightie. The scrunching material obscured, exposed her body in equal measure. "Learn my scent."

 

"I don't stutter," Emma said for some reason. She lowered her head, bowing before Regina. Held her breath. Released it, and inhaled.

 

Regina was… _fragrant._ Like a kind of rose Emma had never whiffed before, a kind of meal she'd never been served. It was perfume.

 

"Good work, my dear." Regina moved her legs, steepling them on either side of Emma's body. The thought stuck in Emma's head; she was between Regina's legs. "Now how about a kiss?"

 

"Down there?" Emma squeaked.

 

"Well, you can't expect any tongue action from me." Regina rolled her eyes. "It's our first date."

 

"What if I do something wrong?"

 

"Emma, I told you…" Regina's wandering hand pulled up her nightie. The other replaced it, running a finger inside her sex. It pulled away, glistening, to touch Emma's lips. Vacantly, she opened her mouth. Sucked on Regina's finger like a baby with a bottle. "There's nothing you can do wrong. Not when I'm this wet."

 

"Oh Christ, Regina…" Emma bowed her head once more. Mouth open this time. "Christ."

 

She kissed. She licked. She sucked.

 

She tasted.

 

Regina moaned, sighed, breathed, all in musical accompaniment to the love Emma was making with her tongue. It urged Emma on… assured her… comforted her… demanded of her. She didn't know how long she stayed, her head nestled in the older woman's thighs, her mouth filled with _Regina,_ drinking of the sweetness Regina fed to her in a dream-like procession. Her world was all coos, murmurs, her name screamed like an answer from God. Time had no place in it.

 

At long last, she felt fingers in her hair, the pain of their tugging a perfect awakening from her enchanted slumber. She was pulled up to face Regina, a new Regina, her Regina. A Regina that was all lust and need and having.

 

" _I'm coming_ ," Regina said hoarsely, and forced Emma's head back to her sex.

 

Emma ate greedily, like a convict at her last meal, and Regina fed her to the point of gluttony. Dessert was the surge of honey in her mouth, the scream that half of Storybrooke must've heard. Then Regina's hands went limp in her hair and her legs turned to jelly around her ears. Regina flopped down on her back, waiting until she had enough air in her lungs to do anything. Emma laid with her head on Regina's stomach, looking up and watching her come back to herself.

 

If tasting Regina had gone on for hours, this was over far too soon. Almost immediately, Regina's head came up. She fixed her sights on Emma. Grabbed her by the bra and pulled their bodies together, kissing Emma so hard they both tasted the Regina on her lips. Then she rolled them around so she was on top.

 

"Your turn," she said, her smile altogether hungry.


	14. I Need You

Regina was kissing her. Emma couldn't think of anything else. Regina was holding her down, cupping her face, invading her mouth with her tongue. Then she felt Regina's legs, twined with her own. Regina's knee, rubbing between her legs.

 

"Oh God…" Emma whimpered, breaking her lips away from Regina's.

 

Regina smiled down at her and nipped at her ear. "Sweet little Emma…" Her fingers wiped a smudge of lipstick from the corner of Emma's mouth. They moved lower, smearing traces of it on Emma's chin, on her collarbone, between her breasts… "Are you ready to be mine?"

 

Emma shivered in all her anticipation. "I've been yours since I first saw you."

 

Regina's fingers rolled from Emma's belly button to the elastic band on her panties. "And I intend to keep you…" She pulled on them.

 

Emma felt cool air rush in to touch her groin. She closed her eyes and braced herself.

 

Nothing but cold air.

 

She opened her eyes. Regina was eying her crotch like an engineer at a construction project. "I've heard of the phrase, 'if there's grass on the field, play ball.' This still seems like a little much." She shot Emma a look. "When was the last time you managed it?"

 

"Uh… never?" Emma pinched her lips together so hard she could hear them in her head. "I shaved my legs the other day, I thought that would be… I have a coupon for a spa."

 

"Don't be ridiculous," Regina said, petting the fur down there. Emma couldn't even feel it, her touch was so light and there was so much… in the way. "I'll take care of it."

 

* * *

 

 

And just like that, Emma was perched at the head of Regina's bath, sitting on top of the spigot. Regina crouched in the porcelain, between her spread legs. She had an electric shaver.

 

Emma was glad she still had her bra on, if nothing else. For some reason, this all had her nipples as hard as stone.

 

"Now just relax," Regina said, the shaver turned on but held clear of them. Like she was letting Emma get used to the repetitive sound. "Don't move and if you feel even a little bit uncomfortable, let me know. I'll stop."

 

"Don't stop!" Emma said automatically. Even the grating noise of the trimmer was turning her on a little. It sounded like… something else.

 

Regina smiled, lovingly, and ran her free hand from Emma's knee down to… the work area… and then back up the other leg. Emma obediently spread her legs wider. It was funny how good she'd become at knowing Regina's mind, her wishes. Like she was born to be Regina's plaything.

 

"Easy… easy…" Regina said. Emma remembered her little fantasy, where Regina had corralled her as efficiently as a horse. She felt a surge of longing for Regina, and then the shaver touched her skin. The vibration seemed to run through her entire body.

 

"Ohh!"

 

Regina shut the shaver off. "Emma? Are you okay?"

 

"I'm fine." Emma managed a shaky smile. "It felt good, that's all."

 

Regina bent to kiss Emma's knee. "I know it's difficult, but try not to squirt every time I touch you. You might short out the motor."

 

"Maybe if you weren't wearing a nightgown in a porcelain bathtub."

 

"There's something wrong with that combination of words?"

 

"It's just… fetish-y. You look like you're modeling something. This is all like a magazine cover, not my life."

 

"Well, I can think of a few things I'm going to do to you that would not be displayed at any reputable magazine stand…"

 

"Goddamnit!" Emma said, virtually shaking with lust. "Are we sure you can't get me off really quick? After that, you can shave my head if you like."

 

"Is that what you really want?" Regina asked, raising up to one knee. Making her tall enough to lean forward and rub her face on Emma's bra, slowly, excruciatingly slowly. "Knowing that this is our first time? And once we're done, you'll be so sensitive. And when I kiss you down there, I'll taste you and only you?"

 

Emma shut her eyes as another tremor went through her. "You talked me into it. But for fuck's sake, Regina, _hurry!_ "

 

"Well, if it's for fuck's sake…" Regina knelt back down and gently, gently, moved the shaver in.

 

Emma held onto the sides of the tub and tried not to cry out. She didn't want to wake up the whole fucking town.

 

"I think we should talk about Ruby," Regina said.

 

Emma's mind flashed to Ruby, dressed as a French maid, bent over Regina's knee with her bare bottom turning bright red. She didn't feel jealous. She felt like she would come.

 

"I love her cheekbones!" Emma blurted out.

 

"As do I." Regina pulled the shaver away to blow some hair from it. Emma quaked in unfulfillment. "Now, her and I did agree to the possibility of… additional parties… but we haven't explored that. Until now."

 

She turned the shaver back on. Emma's grip on the tub tightened.

 

"What do you want to do?" Emma asked, somehow managing not to stutter. She just trailed off on the last syllable as Regina made another pass, the shaver throbbing, pulsing at her groin.

 

"I want to fuck you both," Regina said casually. "But I'm not sure how realistic that is. There. All done." She set the shaver aside.

 

"No you're not!" Emma insisted, and nearly jumped Regina. But in a split-second, Regina had a hand around her throat and was pressing her against the bathroom wall. Choking her just a little.

 

It didn't make her any less aroused.

 

"You do… as I say." Regina loosened her grip, turned it into a caress. "We're almost done, my dear. And as long as we're slowing things down, we _do_ have things to discuss."

 

"I talked to Ruby," Emma gasped, as Regina reached behind her— _gawd,_ was she going to touch her _there?_ —and turned on the faucet. A slight trickle of warm water poured into the tub, its spray flecking Regina's nightgown. Turning it translucent. "She seemed okay with it."

 

"People can seem alright with a lot of things, when it comes to sex. But afterward, things get complicated."

 

Regina picked up a washcloth and held it under the stream, getting it nice and wet. Emma watched her slender fingers as they wrung it out, imagining those fingers on Ruby. Squeezing her, touching her. The only way she'd feel jealous was if she weren't allowed to join in.

 

"We could keep things simple. I could garden for you on weekdays and she could be your maid on weekends."

 

"I think Ruby might object to her end of that deal." Regina draped the washcloth over Emma's sex, like one of those little modesty towels in an old painting, and then slyly began to roll her fingers over the cloth. Massaging the moisture into Emma's body. Making the skin there warm and tender. "She's a very passionate woman."

 

"Would she let me come? Because if she would, we should get her in here!"

 

"I do believe she's a little tied up at the moment." Regina ground the heel of her hand into the washcloth. Emma had to shove her balled fist into her mouth to keep from screaming Regina's name.

 

Finally, Regina peeled away the washcloth. The air that rushed in had Emma whining and whimpering like a puppy that hadn't been fed. Regina smiled up at her and then ran the washcloth over her own lips. She never stopped smiling.

 

"I think I may have to wring this out again." She dropped it. Picked up a bottle of body wash from the side of the tub and daubed her palm with a bead of the lotion. Rubbing it between her hands, she worked up a fine lather. "Now comes the tricky part. I know you trust me, Emma, that's why you came here. But for this, you need to trust me _implicitly_. Trust that I know what I'm doing, and that as long as you stay calm and hold still, you're not going to get hurt."

 

Emma nodded. "I trust you."

 

"Good. Just remember. You've seen my crotch. Who do you think took care of that? Although, now I do wish you'd fucked Ruby. If you'd seen how smooth I'd made her, you'd trust me even more."

 

"I can't trust you anymore than I do now. I can't love you anymore than I do now."

 

Regina kissed Emma's groin, letting the stubble the shaver had left behind tickle her lips. Heat like a volcano moved up Emma's body. "You're such a sweetheart." Then her hands moved in, touching the lather to Emma.

 

Like she had all the time in the world, Regina worked the body wash in. Now Emma let it out, moaning and groaning. It was so different, the feel of Regina's fingers against her bare skin, the viscous cool of the lather as Regina spread it everywhere.

 

"Here's what I think we should do…" Regina began. Then she paused, enjoying the soundtrack as Emma got used to the sensation Regina was providing her.

 

"Yes?" Emma was breathing too hard, too fast. She felt like she'd just run a marathon, no air in her lungs. But she couldn't get too excited. Regina might cut her. Worse, Regina might stop.

 

Regina scrupulously rubbed the lather all over Emma's inner thighs, taking her time with that and leaving her pussy simmering. "First, tell me: would you want _this_ with Ruby?"

 

"Maybe not exactly this," Emma gasped, "but this with orgasms, yeah, sure!"

 

"Well, if Ruby's involved, I can guarantee that. But between the two of us—Ruby and I—things can get very intense. And someone like you, someone inexperienced, they might not be ready for that just yet."

 

Emma's skin was nice and tender, perfectly receptive to the cool lather Regina now stirred with her finger. She ran the tip of her pointer finger over Emma's labia, let the lather spread as it wanted to, getting it everywhere.

 

Emma felt her tits burning, her nipples like metal in a forge. Getting harder. She pulled down her bra, letting them burst out into the air. Now they didn't chafe. She could breathe.

 

"How do I get ready?"

 

Regina slid her hands off Emma's sex, and casually rinsed them under the faucet. "I'll teach you. I'll show you what your body wants… what it likes… and what other people like. There are some things, my sweet, that everyone likes…"

 

"Like a bare pussy?" Emma asked.

 

"Oh, that's a bit overrated." Regina reached outside the bathtub again and came up with a straight razor. Displaying it to Emma, she fingered the blade out of the hilt. It shined silver. "I do pamper myself some, but I've let Ruby grow a ticklish bit of peach fuzz at the moment. Which I do enjoy."

 

"So why me?" Emma asked, meaning _why aren't we fucking?_

 

"Because I like the thought of you looking young." Regina took one of Emma's legs and hoisted it over the side of the tub. "And vulnerable." She did the same to the other. Now Emma was spread-eagled. "Bare… innocent… ripe for corruption."

 

Emma giggled. "I think I'd like that."

 

"Oh yes… you absolutely will."

 

Holding the razor with a steady hand, Regina moved its blade closer and closer to the white film that covered Emma's groin. Emma couldn't look away. She couldn't even shut her eyes. Regina sensed her discomfort and paused, kissing Emma's thigh a few times, rubbing it with her free hand to relax her. Emma felt her breathing slow. It was like Regina had some power over her, a remote control she could press to turn down the volume.

 

Her fingers now describing tiny spirals on Emma's legs, keeping the girl's breathing deep and even, Regina touched the razor to Emma's skin. Just along the bikini line, not quite at Emma's bush. Letting Emma get used to the feel of the razor. Its sharpness. Regina's control.

 

When Regina started in earnest, Emma couldn't even feel it. The razor gently glided between her legs, replacing tufts of lather with smooth skin. Then, slowly, she began to feel it grazing her skin.

 

Regina was doing the lips of her pussy. And it felt amazing, Her skin tingled wherever the razor was. Her nerves, stretched to the breaking point in a subconscious expectation of pain, felt only the exquisite care with which Regina handled the blade. The light, practiced touch with which she groomed Emma.

 

"That feels good," Regina purred. It wasn't a question, but Emma nodded anyway.

 

It was obvious Emma was turned on. Her breasts jogged briskly with the air she was taking in and puffing out. And with each perfumed swath of lather Regina chiseled away, she could smell Emma's scent more clearly. Her excitement.

 

The next thing Emma felt was the razor laid flat against her thigh, pulled away just long enough for Regina to bow her head to Emma's sex. Mouth open. Tongue out.

 

The very tip of Regina's tongue hit Emma's pussy, smooth and bare and sensitive. Emma yelped and Regina laughed knowingly, holding Emma still again with a hand laid flat on her stomach.

 

"Back to business," Regina said, and dropped her hand down to spread Emma open. She didn't want one inch of the girl to go unattended. "If you saw Ruby and I, then you know we have our… little games."

 

"Yes!" Emma breathed, choked as Regina made a long stroke over her labia.

 

"Would you want that as well?" Regina asked, dipping the razor under the water to clean it off. Taking the opportunity to admire her work thus far. "For Ruby and I to use you? Would you submit to her as readily as you do me?"

 

"I haven't—submitted to you—" Emma was practically dripping on the razor.

 

"If you haven't yet—you soon will. So, how about it? Would you enjoy being trapped between us, licking both our needy pussies until we'd reached our limit? Or letting us in both your holes, fucking you from either side, not stopping no matter how many times you come? Or maybe you'd like if we shared those magnificent teats of yours, each of us suckling at you while we took turns fingering your bare little cunt…"

 

"Fuck!" Emma cried, snaring her hands in her hair and nearly pulling her scalp off. It was a good time she was in a bathtub. When she did orgasm, the drain was going to come in handy.

 

"Then again…" Regina closed the razor. "Hand me the showerhead."

 

Emma breathlessly reached up, dancing for the dangling hose until she reached it and nearly dropping the showerhead on Regina's head. Thankfully, Regina caught it. She turned it on at a gentle spray and rinsed off the lather that had gotten onto her arms. The water splashed against her chest, plastering her transparent nightie to her body. Now Emma could see all of her.

 

The sight took her breath away. It was like a vision. Her figure was heavenly, curving out almost excessively, but bowing back inward just before her proportions became truly unbelievable. The nightie clung to her like a hazy afterimage on a picture, outlining her wide hips and perfect breasts.

 

Regina had meant to do that, Emma realized. Expose herself in that manner. From here on out, there was no going back. Emma was going to come.

 

Regina trained the spray on Emma's chest and watched the residue of the lather disappear from the girl's body. Emma shook and quivered, the stream of water over her sex its own tantalizing feel. All she could do was close her eyes. All Regina could do was watch as the water ran down Emma's body, leaving her bare.

 

"I'm a very good judge of character and Emma, I don't think Ruby is like you and I." Emma was gasping, nearly hyperventilating as Regina moved the stream lower and lower. "It's like in a wolfpack. There are alphas and then there are betas. Ruby's a beta. She'll always be someone who takes orders instead of giving them. But the two of us… we're queens, Emma. And when you're ready, we can rule together. Ruby can bow to both of us. So can everyone else."

 

"Please, please, please…" Emma was lost in the feel of the water as it splashed directly against her pussy, in the seductive timbre of Regina's voice as it slipped right into her ear. "I want it—want it so bad!"

 

Regina knelt between Emma's thighs, bringing the showerhead closer to Emma. "Will you obey me?"

 

"Yes!"

 

"Will you learn from me?"

 

"Yes, yes!"

 

"Will you come for me?"

 

" _YES!"_

"Then there's only one thing left to do."

 

Regina turned off the showerhead. Emma sobbed in disappointment.

 

"Make sure I haven't missed a spot." And with that, Regina ran the flat of her tongue all the way up Emma's newly shaved pussy.

 

Emma came as soon as Regina made contact with her cunt.

 

She felt like she'd lost control of her body. Instantly, she was shaking and she couldn't stop. She slipped off her perch and into Regina's arms, hearing gasping cries burst from her mouth. Mostly just gibberish, but she managed to say Regina's name a few times. She was trying to thank her.

 

"Sorry, sorry, I've never…" Emma started to say, lying flat alongside Regina at the bottom of the tub. Regina just smiled at her.

 

"That's alright, Emma. It allows me to test a theory. How many orgasms can our young virgin have?"

 

Without allowing Emma another word, Regina swept her up in her arms and kissed her, thrashing her tongue inside her mouth, a long and twisting finger inside her cunt. Emma was totally unprepared. Regina had been absolutely gentle and precise with the razor, but now she was like an animal. Thrusting in and out of Emma, her whole hand colliding with her pussy. The kiss a constant demand on Emma's lips, not letting her so much as breathe as the finger reignited Emma's sex.

 

Emma screamed into Regina's mouth as she came again. Regina just started kissing her neck. Added another finger.

 

"Regina! Regina!" Emma knew she was begging, but she didn't know what for. Everything Regina had done had left her pussy swollen, sensitive, and in need. Now, like a livewire, it only took one touch and—electricity.

 

Emma came, shaking and screaming, and Regina kissed all along her open mouth. She added another finger. Three perfect fingers, fucking away at Emma. All it took to bring her completely under control.

 

"If I keep fucking you, will you just keep coming and coming and coming?"

 

"For you… for you…" Emma gasped, her mind shattering in rapture. Her limbs shot out in all directions, her head banged against the floor of the tub as Regina bit down on her _lip,_ the painful fix forcing Emma to try and hold herself still as three fucking fingers entered her and left her, over and over again, always seeming to know exactly where to go to set her off again.

 

Emma screamed wordlessly, overwhelmed, as Regina fucked her right through an orgasm. She tore her lip out of Regina's teeth, tasting fresh blood and then being forced to share it as Regina kissed her. She didn't add any fingers to Emma's agonized ecstasy, but the ones already inside her went faster.

 

"No more," Emma muttered, as Regina licked at her bloody lip. "I can't—I just can't…"

 

"Emma," Regina whispered in her ear, darkly amused. "You _are._ "

 

Emma looked down to see that Regina was holding her fingers still. Emma's hips were madly rolling into them, fucking the stiff phallus that Regina provided with her hand. And Emma couldn't seem to stop herself.

 

"You're so damn tight," Regina continued, "I'm not sure I could pull my fingers out if I wanted to. I think you may be something of a slut, little one."

 

Emma's eyes rolled back in her head as she came again. It hurt a little this time. Good pain. She forced herself to stop nonetheless, half-convinced that if she didn't, she might just fuck Regina forever.

 

"That's enough," Emma gasped, gulping in air. She painfully worked herself off of Regina's fingers, leaving them dripping wet. "Enough..."

 

"I think not. After all, we still have to moisturize."

 

Emma's flesh turned to goosepimples, demanding more, all, everything.

 

First, Regina picked up the fluffiest towel Emma had ever seen and patted Emma dry. The soft down tickled her sex, heightening her sex drive once more and easing her sore body back into overdrive. Emma panted, not sure if she should thank Regina or beg her for mercy.

 

Regina took the towel away. Emma shook in denial, still not certain what she wanted but knowing she hadn't gotten in. Smiling brightly, Regina uncapped a bottle of baby oil and filled her hand.

 

"I'll come!" Emma gasped, like a warning, as Regina's hand neared her pussy.

 

"I know you will. I want you to." Regina laid her hand flat against Emma's groin, letting the cool gel _touch_ Emma for a moment, before beginning to gently, insistently rub. "One more. Just to show you who's boss."

 

Emma could only moan as Regina scrubbed the baby oil into her pussy. She started off slow, almost teasingly, and Emma thought she couldn't get off from that. Her body disagreed. It heated up, had her toes curling and her fingers turning to fists, and Regina noticed. She smiled.

 

Went faster, her hand making a steady circuit of Emma's groin, circling her thighs and pussy and her clit, touching them all in painstaking order. Emma's hands twitched. Her feet kicked.

 

"Come for me, Emma." Regina said it with a few little kisses to Emma's cheek. "I know you can. Just once more. You know you want to. Just let it happen."

 

"I can't—I can't—can't take it!"

 

"You can and you will." Now Regina was kissing Emma's barely parted lips, her hand sliding up and down, from Emma's lower belly all the way to her asshole. The friction it left in its wake heated up with each pass, burning a hole in Emma's sex. She was going to catch fire.

 

"Mercy!"

 

"No."

 

"Mercy!"

 

" _Come._ "

 

It felt too good. Emma was too close, her pussy was too sensitive, Regina was too good. She felt herself being lost in Regina's insistent, perfect touch. The heat was rising up to close her throat, turn her ears red, and she wasn't sure why she'd ever said no to this.

 

Regina wasn't bothering to kiss her anymore. Now she just hovered over Emma, rolling Emma's cunt in her hand like it was a stress toy, feeling the oil-slick flesh slide over, under, around her fingers. Emma was being manhandled in her most intimate area, a place no one else had even _seen,_ and she loved it. Loved Regina.

 

" _Mommy!_ " Emma whimpered as Regina grinded down on her clit and she came again. This time she actually squirted, a feeling of swelling and building and releasing and gushing and _finishing_.

 

Then she was done, really done, couldn't move a muscle, just dropped boneless underneath Regina. And the Mayor brought a dripping hand to her mouth and licked the back of it, like a cat about to clean herself.

 

"Did I say something?" Emma asked when she could breathe again.

 

"'Mommy,'" Regina reported, as coy and pleased as she'd been when Emma had found her body rutting without her like a malfunctioning machine. She put in the plug and turned the faucet on, filling the tub with warm, soothing water. "Don't worry about it, I found it quite refreshing. Everyone is so self-conscious during sex. It's all 'fuck me' this and 'oh shit' that. The last time I had a really great orgasm, all I could think was 'Jiminy Christmas.' That's the point of sex, after all. You can't think."

 

Regina turned the water off. Steam filled the air. Emma could feel her toes again.

 

Regina maneuvered them around like it was old-hat, positioning them so Emma was in her lap and held securely in her arms. She kissed the back of Emma's neck, one of the places that hadn't been touched yet. Emma knew they had a lot of fun times coming up, finding all of those.

 

"I love you. I love you so fucking much."

 

"As do I, my pet," Regina replied with another kiss. She reached for the bar of soap in its dish. "As do I. Now how about we wash off that dirty little pussy?"

 

Emma turned in Regina's arms, scooting over so she could kiss Regina in turn. "I think it'll take more than that to clean me off."

 

Regina nodded thoughtfully, building up a lather on Emma's shoulders. "Then I suppose I'll just have to keep fucking you until you're a good girl."

 

The soap was going lower and lower when it stopped. Regina stopped, staring at the window atop the room.

 

It was lit up.

 

"What time is it?" Regina asked.

 

"Do I _look_ like I have a clock on me?" Emma retorted.

 

"Well, when does your mother wake up?"

 

"I don't know. She always has breakfast going when I come downstairs."

 

Regina bit her lip. "I think you might want to get home. And hurry."

 

"But—we—"

 

"Next time, Emma," Regina promised her, sealing it with one last kiss. "We can have a nice long soak then. I'll have time to find some bath toys you'll have a lot of fun playing with."

 

Emma nearly went cross-eyed at the thought. She forced herself out of the tub and grabbed the towel Regina had used earlier, rubbing herself off. She wondered if she'd be left smelling of Regina. Then she remembered Regina had used it on _her._ More likely she'd end up smelling like pussy. Great.

 

"Next time, we can dry each other off too," Regina added, still relaxing in the water.

 

Another shiver of anticipation went through Emma. She dropped the towel and ran to retrieve her clothes, while Regina took off her waterlogged nightie and tossed it in the sink. When Emma came back to check for her bra, which had disappeared somewhere around her third orgasm, she saw Regina totally bare, hidden only by the sudsy water.

 

"Have fun at school," Regina told her, waving goodbye. "Make good choices!"

 

Emma took one last look, which Regina graciously posed for, then took off running. She promised herself: the next time they were in that tub, Regina would be the one begging for mercy.

 

* * *

 

 

Emma licked her lips as she pedaled home. This time, she could taste Regina. A faint trace of apples.

 

It'd been a perfect night. Almost exactly how she'd imagined cashing in her V-card, or at least getting the first payments on it. There was only one thing about the experience that bothered her, now that she thought about it.

 

Regina hadn't said she loved her back.

 

* * *

 

 

After a nice long soak, and a little one-woman reenactment of the night's festivities, Regina drained the pool, swathed herself in a bathrobe, and went downstairs to her dungeon.

 

Well, supposedly it was a basement, but Regina could call it what she wanted, it was her house.

 

In the dungeon, the cache of magical artifacts she'd taken with her from the Enchanted Forest lined the walls. Her photographs were hung up like trophies—the most recent was of Ruby, holding her labia open for Regina both to photograph and bring a riding crop down on. Hours of fun.

 

And, in the far corner, was Ruby.

 

Regina supposed it'd been a little unsafe to leave Ruby strapped down on the spanking horse all night, but even if Ruby couldn't remember it, the bitch was a werewolf. She could take a lot of punishment. And the thing was comfortable enough, not counting the little present Regina had left inside Ruby when she'd retired for the night. The spanking horse had padding, which was more than Regina could say for the sawhorses back home. Now _those_ were cruel.

 

Ruby was asleep, the little darling, her head sprawled against the horse's far end. She was suckling on the ball gag Regina had left her in. When Regina removed it, the girl sucked in air and started to snore.

 

Adorable.

 

Regina snapped a picture for her collection, then picked up the remote control. And with the press of a button, the egg she'd inserted into Ruby the other night began to vibrate.

 

Ruby came awake slowly, responding to the lowest setting. She moaned in pleasure before she was even sure it wasn't a dream.

 

"Regina?" she called. The Mayor was filling a Dixie cup from the water cooler. She brought it to Ruby and let her have a few sips.

 

"How are we feeling?" Regina asked her, turning the egg up a little. She loved the look on Ruby's face as she tried and failed to control her pleasure.

 

"We-well rested," Ruby murmured. "Do you need my services, mistress?"

 

Regina patted Ruby's head and went to her dresser, pulling open the dildo drawer. She knew exactly which strap-on she wanted, not one of the oversized ones, but a big black one that would nonetheless disappear all the way into Ruby with the right incentive. She'd seen it just the other day… ah, there it was.

 

"Emma came by. Earlier than I expected." Regina remembered to turn up the egg. Now, gratifyingly, Ruby started to moan.

 

"Did you fuck her?" Ruby asked, panting lasciviously.

 

"For certain definitions," Regina replied. "I was very gentle with her—for the most part. Lots of tender kisses, handholding, 'I love you'."

 

"Vuh-very kind of you, mistress." Ruby shook as the motion of the egg forced her to grind down on the spanking horse where it was wedged between her spread legs. It made her bare buttocks wiggle in a way Regina found… invigorating.

 

Regina tightened the belt of her strap-on so hard it nearly broke. "It was fun. Very… novel. But there was a certain frustration to it. I wanted to fuck her, Ruby. I wanted to fuck her _hard_."

 

"You will," Ruby assured her, eyes closed against the onslaught of pleasure. Regina was turning the remote control up-up-up. " _We_ will."

 

"I know. But for now, would you mind terribly if I vent?"

 

"Please!" Ruby begged. Unlike Emma, she had no illusions about what she was begging for.

 

As sore as she would be after Regina got like this, it was always worth it. Always.

 

Regina let her robe fall open, the strap-on protruding from it like she was frozen in a block of ice and the dildo was the first thing to thaw out. She used half the bottle of Astroglide lubing it up, but that was okay, she was in a hurry. Regina didn't have any time to open Ruby up. She just wanted to be inside her, taking her pleasure and hearing Ruby scream hers.

 

Before Regina entered her, she looked down at Ruby. Her perfect little bitch. One day, Emma would be right beside her, awaiting pleasurable punishment. And the day after that, Emma would be on the other side of Ruby, fucking her whore mouth while Regina used her cunt.

 

"Pledge allegiance," Regina ordered, in the few moments she look to lube up Ruby's holes. "Nice and loud."

 

And with that, she slid into Ruby.

 

" _Fuck!_ God save the Queen! Oh _God!_ " Ruby pledged in the same breath as her obscene reactions. She flushed, like a dragon about to breathe fire. No, like when she Changed, her flesh darkening with fur.

 

Regina gave her a whole dozen heartbeats to get used to the intrusion before she was thrusting into her without mercy, setting her flesh on fire where it was red and turning her skin white where it was pale.

 

She couldn't _feel anything_ with the dildo, she hadn't taken the time to prepare it that way, but she could sense the pleasure coming off Ruby in throbbing waves. Her grunts and moans had physical weight, bouncing off Regina, and her eyes blazed with heat. When she turned to Regina with that look, the Mayor felt like she was on fire.

 

It didn't have the ineffable pleasure of corrupting Emma, but on a visceral level, it was far more satisfying. No holding back, no pampering the little bitch whatsoever. Emma she'd made love to, Ruby she fucked. And the blonde had been so _overcome,_ so _overwhelmed_ , yet not having any more than the slightest idea what her body was capable of feeling.

 

Emma had no idea what she was in for, while Ruby knew all too well what she was addicted to.

 

In under a minute, Regina's favorite toy was coming for her.

 

"God save the Queen!" Ruby pledged, louder and louder. "Long live the Queen!"


	15. Let's All Go To The Lobby...

Emma needed to decompress. She literally couldn't face Regina. So she went through the motions. She went to bed, got back up when Mary-Margaret woke up, showered, dressed, breakfasted, went to school. She wasn't even tired. She just didn't feel like herself anymore. It was more like she'd been changed and didn't yet recognize herself. She was still getting used to a reflection that had done all those things with Regina.

 

Mary-Margaret suggesting a trip to the local theater's Twenty-Four Horrors was just what she needed. Their annual tradition: the theater showed horror movies from midnight to midnight, and for just twenty bucks you could watch as many as you wanted. They'd been going together since Mary-Margaret had had to buy Emma's tickets for her.

 

The theater was dark and mostly deserted. A lot of people had shown up for the midnight start, but by noon, most of them had headed home. Others were asleep in their seats. Mary-Margaret and Emma showed up in the afternoon, before the rush of the evening shows when the theater started showing the good stuff—The Exorcist, Rosemary's Baby. From noon to six it was just whatever B-movies the management could find.

 

They were halfway through the 4:00 PM showing, a horrible old cheapie called Spiders, when the Mayor sat down beside them. She was impeccably dressed in a black pantsuit with a tailored white jacket, but when her eyes roamed Emma's flower-print blouse and pleated skirt, her smile showed she found them acceptable. "I thought the backs of your heads looked familiar," Regina said, seating a big tub of popcorn on her lap. "But I never saw the two of you as horror fans."

 

"Oh, I'm not," Mary-Margaret protested. "Emma just can't get enough of watching bimbos in tight shirts get taken out by monsters, apparently."

 

Regina glanced at the screen. "Well, I'm sure everyone's daughter has some eclectic tastes. I know I did at her age."

 

"We were just watching a movie," Emma finally stammered. Part of her didn't believe Regina was real. What was her fantasy doing her, watching a movie with her and her _mom_?

 

"Well, I didn't think you were necking," Regina smiled. "How about a deal? I'll share my popcorn if you promise to go get a refill? I never finish these things anyway…"

 

"Sounds fine to me," Mary-Margaret said, already taking a scoop in her hand.

 

Regina's smile turned on Emma. "I love making deals with your family."

 

For ten minutes, Regina just sat there like a good little moviegoer, taking dainty bites of her popcorn. Not even chewing loudly. Emma was sandwiched in between her mother and Regina, the popcorn in her lap so everyone could have some. Every time Regina reached for it, Emma thought the hand would grab her breast, her thigh, her hair to pull her into a kiss, but it never did. Regina was a perfect, infuriating gentlewoman.

 

Another five minutes and Emma started to become aware of her own body. It felt different, hotter. Like it was responding to Regina's very presence. Even the slightest, sidelong look from Regina was a caress. When Regina gently, stealthily eased her stocking-clad foot out of its sandal, Emma wondered for the first time what toes would feel like in her cunt. Then Regina slid her foot sideways and brushed it against Emma's ankle, right above her shoe.

 

Emma moaned. Out loud.

 

"Emma?" Mary-Margaret asked, turning. "Are you alright?"

 

"Yeah." Emma nodded at the screen. "This is just… really scary."

 

"It is? C'mon, look at that idiot they've got playing the heroine. I wouldn't believe her if she was ordering a pizza."

 

Regina scowled. "I think she's doing a fine job."

 

They went back to their silence. After a bare second, Regina's foot ran across Emma's again. It moved from the tip of Emma's shoe to the loop on the back, never touching so much as her sock. Emma bit her lip and crushed the popcorn in her hand to dust. Now Regina moved her foot up, up the back of Emma's leg. As flexible as Emma knew the Mayor to be, she wasn't a contortionist. That was as far as she could go, sitting next to Emma. But Christ, it was enough.

 

She got so used to it, over the next few minutes, that it came as an explosive shock when she felt Regina's hand on her sex.

 

It wasn't, of course. Regina had just reached down into the popcorn tub, now empty, and hit the bottom. Which was resting on Emma's lap. But even that contact seemed calculated to make her scream. Which she did. Loudly.

 

Fortunately, at that point, one of the titular spiders had just snarfed someone. Everyone chalked it up to just another jumpy teenage girl.

 

Mary-Margaret turned, sensing something was amiss. Emma had laughed her way through Alien, she didn't scare easy. But before she could even start, Regina was holding out the popcorn tub to her.

 

"How about that refill now?" the Mayor asked. "I always like to have some popcorn during the climax."

 

"Sure," Mary-Margaret said, restraining herself to a 'don't embarrass me' look at Emma.

 

She took the tub and left the row. Now Emma and Regina were alone, no one around for three rows. And Regina barely waited until Mary-Margaret was headed up the aisle to say "Take off your panties."

 

Emma winced. Regina had said it low, and that just made it sexier, but if Mary-Margaret had heard just one word of that sentence…

 

Regina dug her nails into Emma's knee. " _Take them off._ "

 

Emma breathed hard for a few moments, wondering how Regina would punish her if she disobeyed. The answer was obvious: she wouldn't. But how long would it be until they fucked again? How long would it take Emma to detach herself from her mother, run to Regina's place, get her alone? When she could be fucking Regina now, in a bathroom stall, an alleyway, whatever dark cranny Regina pulled her into?

 

Working fast, and with Mary-Margaret not even out of the auditorium yet, Emma lifted her hips and wiggled her panties down her legs, handing them to Regina. The Mayor was subtle enough not to sniff them or anything like that. She just tucked them into her purse like a snack for later.

 

"Now spread your legs," Regina said.

 

_Now_ Emma looked at her, looked as her like Regina had just grown a second head. "Are you crazy?" she hissed quietly.

 

"Spread your legs," Regina said again, looking back at her. Her eyes were dark with lust. "Nice and wide."

 

"My mother is going to be back any—"

 

"There'll be a nice, long line at the concession stand. And judging by the half-empty Big Gulp on the arm of her chair, she'll need to use the restroom. We have quite a few minutes, so the sooner we start, the more chance we'll be done before she gets back. Spread your _fucking_ legs." Regina jeeringly emphasized that word, as if she'd bend Emma over the row in front of them and simply _take_ her if Emma gave her any problems.

 

Emma would be a liar if she said that didn't turn her on.

 

She spread her legs.

 

"You're such a good girl," Regina said, her voice now soothing and warm. She moved her hand on Emma's knee good-naturedly. And then ran it up her thigh. "Mary-Margaret did a good job with you…"

 

"Could we not talk about her right now?" Emma muttered.

 

"What should we talk about? The audience?" Regina's fingers, bastards, began to run back and forth on Emma's inner thigh. They couldn't just keep going, they had to reverse. "Look, there's Ashley in the third row. All she'd have to do is turn around and she'd see you with your legs open and my finger shoved up your—"

 

And that was when Regina _did_ shove her finger up there. Emma gasped. It felt good. Too good. She had to force herself not to moan.

 

"And is that Sheriff Graham?" Regina asked, her finger working steadily inside Emma. Making her shift in her seat, not sure what she wanted, but knowing she wasn't getting it. "If he saw what I was doing to you, he might slap the handcuffs on both of us. But then, would you enjoy that?"

 

"Regina…" Emma moaned at last, softly enough that only the Mayor heard. That was what she thought satisfied Regina—having this all to herself, hers and only hers. That's what made her add another finger.

 

Emma closed her eyes and prepared to come.

 

Then Regina took her hand away.

 

"Goddamnit, Regina!" Emma started to swear, when she saw the usher walking down the aisle, flashlight in hand. She shut up, closing her eyes, and Regina sat with her hands in her lap.

 

The usher made his way to the front row, asked someone to turn off their cellphone, then left.

 

Regina looked at Emma.

 

Emma spread her legs.

 

Regina settled in, resting her head on Emma's shoulder as she delved into her, two fingers, no waiting. "Perhaps we should discuss the movie," she said, her breath hitting Emma's ear.

 

On the screen, the heroine had gotten her shirt stuck on a spider's web and had to strip down to her bra to get free. She was, of course, generously endowed.

 

"Look at that hot little bitch," Regina hissed in Emma's ear, her fingers speeding up. "Look at her tits. Look at her ass."

 

"I'd rather look at you," Emma moaned, then suddenly worried she'd been too loud.

 

Now the hero had run across the heroine and, since they were probably going to die, now seemed like a good time for a sex scene. They kissed. They caressed each other. They gyrated.

 

"Ooh, is that what you'd like?" Regina asked. "Maybe a big hard cock filling you up? I have some at home."

 

" _God!_ "

 

"But do you know what's even bigger?" Regina added another finger, no muss, no fuss, as if she didn't even realize she'd done it. Emma started grinding down on her seat, working her hips back and forth like she was trying to get more _Regina._ "A fist. Have you ever been fisted, Emma? Emma, I asked you a question."

 

"No!" Emma said at last. She knew any word she let out of her mouth might be a scream.

 

"You feel so full. So… loved. I'm going to do that to you, Emma. And you're going to do it to Ruby. We'll be one big, happy family."

 

"Fucking _please_!" Emma yelped, just barely cutting herself off before her voice rose.

 

"Oh, do you want to come? Do you want this over with? Are you not enjoying this?"

 

Emma just closed her eyes and forced herself to stop rocking back and forth. She knew she wouldn't come unless Regina let her and she knew that if she moved any more, she'd attract attention. She grabbed the armrests and held on tight, forcing herself to be still as Regina plundered her.

 

"So what's the matter, Emma?" Regina asked, filling her voice with concern. "Do you not like being fucked in the middle of a theater where anyone could see you?" Her fingers slowed.

 

"I love it!" Emma gasped quickly, opening her eyes to see Regina's smile. The smile she thought only she got; dark and in control.

 

"That's right," Regina said, as she jammed her fingers deep inside. Far enough to make Emma hitch her breath. "You do."

 

She drew her fingers out slowly and they started again, back and forth, in and out, circling and rubbing, fucking and fucking.

 

"I really enjoyed our bath the other night," Regina said, her words slick in Emma's ear. "I especially loved when you called me Mommy."

 

"I didn't—" Emma began, but a wet twist of Regina's fingers had her biting her words before they became moans.

 

"I want you to call me that again. Say 'Mommy' and I'll let you come."

 

"That's… no. Just—c'mon, Regina."

 

"That's not what you call me," Regina insisted, her voice hardening with both lust and authority. "When you want to come, you call me Mommy. _Say it._ "

 

"Regina, come on… Regina, it's wrong."

 

"I know. That's what makes it fun." Regina drew her fingers out of Emma just long enough to give her cunt a brisk slap. Sensation filled Emma, throwing her body around with the scream she had to keep inside. And then Regina was inside her again, thrusting away, pushing her orgasm to the front of her mind. It was filling her up, crushing everything else inside her, and she had to let it out or she'd explode. "Say Mama," Regina teased, like she was talking to a baby. "Say Mama."

 

"S'wrong," Emma insisted, squeezing her thighs shut on Regina's hand. That only seemed to make her more aroused.

 

"You can say it now or you can say it in bed, when I bend you over the mattress and fuck you so hard you'll think this was just a bit of light petting, but you are _not_ going to come until you say it." Regina straightened up, glancing at the screen, brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes, all while ceaselessly working her hand into Emma's cunt. "Oh, look. Mary-Margaret's back."

 

Emma looked over her shoulder. Mary-Margaret stood at the back of the auditorium, looking for her and Regina. She had a full tub of popcorn in her hands.

 

"Stop it, you gotta—"

 

Regina added her thumb to Emma's clit. Now Emma couldn't have asked her to stop if a bomb were about to go off.

 

"Did you have something to say to me?" Regina asked, looking down casually like she were checking her watch. "Something that starts with M?"

 

Mary-Margaret saw them. She started down the aisle.

 

"Mommy," Emma whimpered under her breath.

 

"What was that, Emma dear?" Regina leaned in close. "I couldn't quite hear."

 

Mary-Margaret was almost to them. She paused as she stepped in something sticky.

 

"Mommy!" Emma enunciated with all her might, straining to keep the word clear of feeling as she orgasmed, like what she'd said was a magic word. She _clenched_ in her seat and felt Regina's hand leave her and she snapped her legs together like a beartrap and closed her eyes, the darkness full of colors.

 

"I'm right here, sweetie," Mary-Margaret said, sitting down beside her. She passed the popcorn into Emma's lap, covering up the wet stain on the front of her skirt. "Everything alright?"

 

Emma nodded. "Yeah, I was just getting a little worried. You were taking a long time."

 

"There was a line at the concession stand. Seems like everyone wanted nachos at the same time." Mary-Margaret shook her head. "You look a little pale, are you sure you're not coming down with something?"

 

Regina reached into the popcorn tub—Emma could see her fingers were gleaming wet—and had herself a bite. "Mmm! This is delicious, Mrs. Blanchard! What'd you put on it?"

 

Mary-Margaret shrugged. "Just a little butter."

 

"Well, you must've gotten just the right amount. It tastes divine." Regina dug into the popcorn again and held out a handful for Emma. "Here, Emma, try it!"

 

Emma obediently opened her mouth and ate out of Regina's hand. As her mother watched, she found out exactly what she tasted like.


	16. Gardening

Being with Regina made Emma feel like she wasn't Emma. That didn't make sense to her until she came across a quote by Gore Vidal in school: _Most children tell themselves stories in which they figure as powerful figures, enjoying the pleasures not only of the adult world as they conceive it but of a world of wonders unlike dull reality. Although this sort of Mittyesque daydreaming is supposed to cease in maturity, I suggest that more adults than we suspect are bemusedly wandering about with a full Technicolor extravaganza going on in their heads._

 

And it felt like her dream-self, beautiful and sexual, that was with Regina, while the rest of her stayed with her mom, awkward and plain. Soon, seeing Regina became a series of prison breaks. She'd come up with elaborate stories and giant plans just to steal a kiss from Regina. Pulling one over her eagle-eyed mother was almost as much fun as being with Regina.

 

Saturday came like the guards' shift change. Mary-Margaret would be catching up on her backlog of Scandal Tivos, and like potato chips, she couldn't stop with just one. Emma would say she was at the library studying and Mary-Margaret would forget she existed.

 

Emma slipped out the window, even though the TV room was nowhere near the stairs, and clambered off the second floor to her waiting bike. As she rode to Regina's house, the wind was in her hair and tickling her face. Maybe Gore was right. Her body really was at the library, studying its little heart out, and this was all a fantasy.

 

She decided then and there not to wake up.

 

Regina's manor was still dark and moody, but now that was comforting. She knew its secret and it knew hers. Emma took great pleasure in hiding her bike behind the hedges, then entering Regina's lair with her very own key. She could sense Ruby's absence inside. It was too quiet, too serene, for Regina to be entertaining her. Emma would have the Mayor all to herself.

 

Emma crept through the house. She thought of disrobing to surprise Regina, but no, she'd seen enough rom-coms to know how that could go wrong. If Regina was with someone, Emma would lie and say she was there to borrow a book. Anyone would believe that when she had clothes on.

 

Besides, she was already dressed sexy. Cut-off jeans with the pockets past the denim. A spaghetti-strap tank. Sandals for that touch of casualness. She might not have passed muster for a rap video, but she could definitely dance with Taylor Swift.

 

She found Regina in her office, her Aeron chair turned away from her desk and pointed out the window. The computer was powered down. The phone was on the hook. Regina was all hers.

 

Emma slipped out of her sandals and tip-toed across the floor. She skipped the hardwood floorboards for the white rugs that Regina had arrayed in pleasing symmetry; bare feet sinking into the rich fur. She reached the desk; like a cat nearing its prey, she pressed herself low to the mahogany as she reached across the workspace. Bringing her knees up onto the desk, she was able to reach around the chair and cover Regina's eyes. "Guess who?"

 

Regina's face was wet. She turned around and Emma saw it was red and puffy as well. Tears had soaked through the wad of tissues she held in her hand. "I didn't hear you come in," she said in a voice that limped like a wounded animal.

 

"You're crying!" Emma instantly pulled another ten tissues from the box on the desk. She patted Regina's face with them about a dozen times a second. "What's wrong? Something's wrong. Regina…"

 

"Nothing," Regina said, taking Emma's hand like a child reaching for a teddy bear. "It's just that sometimes, when everything's alright, it makes you remember when everything wasn't."

 

Emma tightened her hand on Regina's. She welcomed the pressure. "Why are you sad?" she asked, her voice as soft as it had ever been.

 

Regina demurred, deploying a fresh wave of moist towelettes to wipe down her face. She pushed aside all Emma's attempts to assist her, not stopping until she was as bare as a marble statue, and in her own way, just as imposing.

 

Emma understood. It had been a very personal question.

 

"I'm sorry," Regina said at last, her voice distilled to be completely neutral. "Here you are, on your great love affair, with all your dreams of me, and look how I live up to them. Some temptress. Run off, Emma. Come back another day; I'll make you swoon and moan and sigh, just as you should."

 

Emma grabbed her hand again, rougher this time. Hard enough to hurt. "Look, I'm not gonna pretend it isn't a turn-on that you're an older woman, or that you're the Mayor, or that you kinda have a harem. But that's not the cake, you know, that's just the frosting. And you can't eat a whole thing of frosting. Tried when I was twelve, sick for a week. I like you for you. So if you're feeling like crap, I wanna feel like crap too, even if it's not sexy. And now, I'm going to read your mind with my advanced intellect." Emma put the first two fingers of either hand on the sides of her head. "You are… feeling shitty because you have a million things to do today and you're behind on all of them."

 

Very much despite herself, Regina was impressed. She deadpanned "That's amazing."

 

"My mom gets the same way. So how about I help you get caught up and then you reward me however you see fit?"

 

Regina made a face of incomprehension. "Do you mean you'd like a gift card?"

 

"Don't flirt with me, I cannot be all hot and bothered when there's work to be done."

 

Regina ran her thumb along Emma's hand. "You are an exceptional young woman, and I've underestimated you. The more I'm taken with you, the less I see how far you can draw me."

 

She kissed Emma's cheek, and of all the ways she had touched the girl, that was the one that made her blush.

 

Regina stood up from her chair to tower over Emma once more. "Let me get changed. I'm not dressed for physical labor."

 

Emma made a show of shivering. "That counted as flirting!"

 

***

 

When Regina returned, she was dressed as shabbily as Emma had ever seen her. A pair of blue jeans with the cuffs and knees run ragged. A white tee with holes in the fabric. Sturdy boots with no sheen whatsoever. The newest thing on her was the ballcap that shielded her from the sun.

 

Emma felt her loins go _boing_ , or whatever sound it was loins made.

 

"I was raised on a farm," Regina explained.

 

"Is it a hobby of yours to try and give me new fetishes?"

 

"No, it just sort of happens." Regina put one hand on her hip. "Oh, good, you're dressed for yardwork too."

 

Emma buffed her knuckles on her shirt. "It's called being butch. Sorry I'm so good at being a lesbian."

 

Regina took her arm to lead Emma outside. "You, my dear, are great at lesbianism. At least, the part that matters. We still need to teach you how to dress in drag."

 

Emma shook her head. "Okay, you say 'teach' and I have a mental image of you spanking me until I put on a business suit. You need to stop being so sexy or we'll never get anything done."

 

"It would break any number of town ordinances if you jumped me on the rosebushes. Maybe if we waited until nightfall…"

 

"Okay, that's it!"

 

Fisting her hand in Regina's shirt, Emma pulled the woman almost crushingly close and gave her the kind of kiss that set in like it might last forever. Because she had a curfew, Emma limited it to the time it took for her hand to travel Regina's temptingly frayed clothing.

 

A tremor went through Regina, a muscle spasm of almost-resistance that nearly made Emma back off and apologize. But then it subsided. _Typical Regina,_ Emma thought. Always wanted to be in control. Needing to be shown she didn't _have_ to be.

 

Emma's hand fingered one last hole in the hem of Regina's shirt, feeling the slick sweat under the starch fabric, and played at cupping Regina's ass through her jeans before leaving her fingers suspended at Regina's hip, a perfect placeholder as she pulled her lips back from Regina's.

 

For a moment, she hoped Regina would be aroused enough to bend her over the desk right that second; it'd improve both their moods. But Regina just stayed there, a look of complete surprise on her face. She recovered quickly, replacing her astonished look with one of interest.

 

"I didn't know you could kiss like that," she said, again with pleasant surprise, but the words folded a little as she spoke, like she was still trying to hold back her shock. Emma didn't know what to make of that. Was she really that much better a kisser than Ruby?

 

"I just had to get it out of my system."

  
Regina turned swiftly on her heel and marched off. She gestured for Emma to fall in behind her. It was like she hadn’t heard a word Emma'd said. "My tree is dying. Most likely this weather we've been having. The bark has been so damaged that the phloem layer underneath, which provides the tree with water and nutrients, has been compromised. Without it, the whole tree will wither."

 

"So we fix the phlegm layer," Emma said. She kept close behind Regina, wondering if she should put an arm around her waist, hold her hand.

 

"If we can," Regina added crisply. She opened the door to a sun so bright it blanked out Emma's vision.

 

Emma had never paid much attention to the apple tree that dominated Regina's front yard. It seemed just like the rest of Regina's property: imposing, controlled, and solid as a rock. Who could've guessed it was rotting away inside?

 

"First we have to clean out its wounds." Regina pointed to a section of corrupted bark, still all business. She took out a pocket knife.

 

"You're going to shank it?"

 

Regina half-turned to Emma as if just noticing her. She smiled unreadily. "I need to trim the edges. You get a bucket of water, one part soap to three parts water. Get a sponge as well."

 

Emma did as ordered, still thinking of Regina's bitter tears. For the first time, she'd noticed that there was a heart carved on the tree.

 

When she got back, Regina was whittling away the rent edges of the damage. But not with coarse, aggressive slashes. She used the knife like it was a scalpel, gently paring away the uneven lines. Emma could only imagine the look of concentration on her face.

 

It struck her then how rarely Regina spent affection. Even in her flings with Ruby, she was in control. Maybe Emma was her only outlet, a way of processing emotion that she hadn't mastered yet. Maybe there was a reason Emma had had to make the first move.

 

It was easy work to wash the wounds. Regina had done such a good job that the wood was practically varnished. Emma just had to daub the sponge around and she was done. Still, Regina watched her intently. When Emma met her gaze, the older woman nodded approvingly, but Emma knew Regina was concerned, worried about her tree more than she'd ever worried about _cars._ And she figured out what she wanted to ask. Just now how to ask it.

 

It was one of those answers without a right question.

 

“Have you ever been in love with someone?” Emma didn't dare look at Regina. The soap running over the back was much easier to hold her eyes on. “Really, really loved them?”

 

Regina turned away and her shadow slashed over Emma. But a moment later she was kneeling next to her, rinsing the tree off with a garden hose. “You,” she said glibly.

 

“Stop it.”

 

“Why?” Regina rose to cut away the bark from a branch, the section a little bigger than the wound. Emma had seen this on HGTV. It was a graft that would heal the tree, healthy bark to sick.

 

“You don't just love someone after a few days. It takes time and stuff. That's why they always have montages in romantic movies.” Emma said, watching Regina trim the bark into the proper shape. It was amazing how tender she could be with a cut.

 

"It doesn't take time at all. That's something adults imagine to explain why they don't feel it; they say it just takes time." Regina let her voice grow wistful, even as her hands worked mindlessly as a butcher. She cut two flaps around the wound and slotted the bridge in like a puzzle piece. Evidently she was satisfied with it, but to Emma it just looked mismatched. “They say that seeing something and just knowing is something that only happens in fairy tales. But when I first saw you—everything else was just me second-guessing myself.”

 

“And before me?”

 

“There was… someone once.” Regina's hands ascended before her, moving from the bridge up to the heart. There was a stylized R inside that had to be hers, and a D that couldn't be. “My first love. Taken from me before we'd even begun. But please believe me, Emma... having you makes me feel like that wrong is finally being put right.”

 

When Regina touched her cheek, Emma melted like her hand was a match being touched to ice. Then Regina rested her forehead against Emma's bowed head and Emma felt just perfect, perfectly connected to Regina, building a barrier with her against all pain and doubt. They stayed like that for a few minutes, Regina's hands rubbing up and down Emma's arms, not sure where else to go. It was the kind of thing Emma would've thought of as sexual in the past, but now it was just intimate.

 

"Hey," she said, taking a tiny step closer and nuzzling her face into Regina's shoulder like a big kitten. "Since we did a solid for this tree, how about we take our payment in fruit and make a pie or something? It'll be like we live in a wood cabin, eating the fat of the land."

 

"Later," Regina said.

 

"Later?" Emma asked.

 

Regina's hand trailed down to Emma's hip and pulled her close.

 

"Later," Emma agreed.

 

***

 

"Was that okay?" Emma asked afterward, the taste of Regina still thick in her mouth. It hadn't been the wild bout of passion she'd expected when she came over; more peaceful, more serene. Regina hadn't wanted to do much more than lie in bed with her, holding her and kissing her, but Emma had managed to heat things up to the point where Regina had laid back, spread her legs, and allowed Emma to show-off what she'd been reading on WikiHow.

 

"Very good," Regina replied, tugging on a lock of Emma's hair until she joined her up on the pillow. "I noticed you tried a few new things…"

 

"Yeah," Emma blushed. "Did you like any of 'em?"

 

"I liked _you._ You don't have to do tricks for me. Just do what comes naturally. Trust your instincts. If you want something… interesting, I could give you a few pointers."

 

"I'm listening…" Emma said, flirting with all her might.

 

"Not tonight, little one. I'm old and tired. I just want to sleep."

 

Emma's mind whirled, something in those words sinking into her. She wanted to be there for Regina in a way she couldn't explain, give her something she didn't know what. "Can I stay with you?"

 

"I was just about to ask. But… your mother?"

 

"I have a weird sleep cycle. I'll wake up in the middle of the night and go home then. You won't even notice I've gone."

 

"Mm," Regina said achingly. "Like a pleasant dream. Next time, I'll see about being more… physical. You're young. I'm sure you're not much for holding hands and gazing deep into each other's eyes."

 

"I could get used to it."

 

Regina smirked and opened her arms, ushering Emma down to her chest. The young woman fit against her like a blanket being drawn up over her body. Emma felt a tension in Regina's body, a stiffness, and she held her loosely. Felt her body slow, her breathing lengthen, her skin warm to match Emma's heat.

 

"Emma?" Regina began, her eyes closed. "How long have you wanted me? Us?"

 

"It feels like a long time," Emma said. She spoke carefully, sounding each word out in her head before she spoke. Regina was too important to let just anything pop out. "Like I was waiting for you before we ever met, and then the more I saw you, the more I knew you were missing from me. Like…" She trailed off.

 

"Like what?" Regina pressed.

 

"Like when you download a new app on your phone and you're like 'this is amazing, how did I ever get by without it?'" Emma shrugged apologetically. "Sorry. I'm dumb."

 

"It's alright. It's the twenty-first century. I suppose I'll have to get used to being compared to an app."

 

"No, you're the phone," Emma said. "And there's all this cool stuff in you like… fixing a tree… and that's the app. So, you're more like one of those claw machines, full of all this neat stuff, only your claw actually works." She groaned and buried her head in Regina's armpit. "Please shut me up! I'm being an idiot."

 

"I like you being an idiot. It's very becoming." Regina kissed the top of Emma's head, feeling her golden hair on her lips, her overwarm scalp, the hard bone underneath it all. "And now you have me."

 

"Mmmm…" Emma could do no more than moan at that fact.

 

"All your wanting… all your desire… all the fantasies and secret dreams and imagined plans… and I'm yours."

 

Emma perched her head on Regina's shoulder. She couldn't imagine herself more content. "Yours," she repeated drowsily.

 

"So now what?"

 

"Sex," Emma replied, and slipped her arm snugly around Regina's waist. But softly; they'd pick this up in the morning. (It was easy to forget Mary-Margaret at times like this).

 

Regina continued her pursuit of the idea she'd been circling. "You can touch me… kiss me… do anything you like with me. So do we just… keep going? Is it really a victory just to _have_ someone?"

 

"We hold onto each other." Emma was half-asleep, but lucid still. Hanging onto Regina's words as she held onto the woman herself. "We fight for each other. It's what my parents did. My mom still does. She goes to visit him. She thinks I don't know, but I can always tell. She cries those nights."

 

"I'm sorry," Regina said reflexively.

 

"No, it's good… I mean, there's goodness in it… somewhere. That you can love someone so much that it still hurts a little, no matter how long you live. It's a win, you know? You won, just finding that in the first place."

 

"Some days I wish I had never met Daniel." The sentence came off Regina like a loose tooth after a fight. Not in any measured tone; her words _stung_ with feeling.

 

Emma said nothing. She just held Regina a little tighter. And then, her mouth opened. "I love you exactly the way you are. And anything that made you the way you are… Regina, you're amazing. I like how amazing you are."

 

Emma drifted off to sleep as Regina laid there. Awake for a long time.

 

"And if _I_ think you're amazing?" she said at last, to the dark room.

 

***

 

In her dream, Emma was riding with her queen Regina, their steeds surging to keep up with each other. The world shook under her like it would go to pieces, but she was with Regina. It held together.

 

Then she woke up. The bed was rocking, springs creaking, sheets ripping as they were pulled more than taut. Emma wondered if Maine got earthquakes.

 

Then she heard a moan. A moan she'd heard before, one she'd caused. Regina was still next to her and she was being fucked, hard, expertly. Another gasp and flail of bodies, then Emma saw who it was buried in Regina's cleavage.

 

Ruby was naked, planted in Regina like a weed in a flower bed.


	17. Chapter 17

Emma whipped out of bed like it was on fire, landing on the floor in a tangle of sheets. The only interruption she accomplished was baring Ruby and Regina's love-making to the world.

 

When she surfaced, Ruby had shimmied down Regina's body to feast on her, maybe not even noticing that Emma was awake. But Regina noticed. Her hands in Ruby's hair like reins, she worked Ruby's questing mouth where she willed it and eased her eyes to Emma. They were as controlled as ever, slanted and hooded, but with a violent lust in the dilated pupils. One look from them and Emma felt her pulse quicken the other way, swinging from fear to arousal so fast that her need had an aftertaste.

 

Regina crooked a finger through Ruby's hair. _Come on in. The water's fine._

Emma jerked her head once to the sides, like a current had been run through her neck, and bolted from the room. Her last glimpse of Regina was the woman cresting in orgasm, mouth open in prolonged satisfaction. _Ahhhh._ Like she'd worked a kink out of her neck.

 

Emma had gone to bed in enough clothes that she didn't feel embarrassed, sitting down in the living room and waiting for Regina's apology. She waited a long time, long enough to imagine the worst things Regina could be doing with Ruby. Having sex again? Cuddling? Were they _asleep_?

 

The door sweeping open stopped her from crying. Regina came out wearing a kimono, and Emma felt another shiver of lust run through her; the crisp white satin outlined the Mayor's body like she was being painted with every step.

 

"Good morning, Emma. I'm sorry you didn't stay to watch. You missed a _very_ edifying sex act."

 

Emma curled up a little deeper into herself, drawing her legs up onto her chair. "Was she better than me?"

 

"I don't keep score." Regina went to the coffee maker and turned it on, fiddling with it in a practiced routine. Not one movement wasted. "Is something bothering you, Emma?"

 

"Yeah. Yeah, something's bothering me. _How could you do that?_ "

 

Regina looked up at her—surprised or mock-surprised—before going back to the coffee grounds. "You know my arrangement with Ruby. I'm sorry if I woke you, but she came here—for the same thing you did, I might add—and the prospect of coupling with you _right there_ was too tempting to pass up. Ruby would've accepted us doing the same. In fact, she's asleep right now, the poor dear. I was rather rough on her…"

 

Emma felt like tearing her hair out, vomiting, and crying all at once. She linked her hands on her fetal-position knees to keep them still. "What the fuck are you talking about, Regina? We have this long talk about… feelings and emotions and old lovers, I actually think we've made some sort of connection—you let me _sleep_ with you, and don't act like I'm talking about sex, because you know I'm not. Then I wake up to you fucking another girl? What is that? Were you trying to put me in my place or something?"

 

"I was trying to have an orgasm, Emma, and you of all people should understand that. Haven't you begged for it? Haven't you dreamed of it?"

 

Emma looked away. Regina shrugged her shoulders as she let the coffee percolate, the steady trickle impossibly loud. Emma forced herself up, walking around the room until she hit the island between it and Regina's kitchen. She braced herself on it.

 

Regina ran her down like a wolf on wounded prey. "You don't own me and I've certainly not asked to own you. If what I do with Ruby bothers you, then I won't do it in your presence, but I will do it. If that's a problem with you, you can either grow up or run back to fumbling with boys in the backseat of their father's car."

 

"That's not what I want," Emma said, quietly but with teeth still clenched.

 

"Then _what_ is the problem?"

 

"I thought there was something special about last night. I thought we shared something you didn't with Ruby. _Not_ the sex." Emma pushed off the island and stood aloft, staring at Regina. "Does Ruby know about Daniel?"

 

Regina quieted—Emma could practically hear the hum of her furious intellect, always on, always scheming… start to slow. "No one knows," she said softly. "I'll thank you not to mention it."

 

"Of course not. And, if you want to tell Ruby, that's fine, I guess—it's good to talk about things…" Emma curled her bare toes in the carpet and felt a little more undressed than she was. She still had on her tank, but she'd left her bra under Regina's bed. "I just want something real with _you_."

 

Regina looked at the coffee pot. Not ready yet. She gestured for Emma. "Come."

 

Despite everything, Emma followed her, up the stairs and into a long hallway. At the end, Emma recognized the door to Regina's room. They didn't go there. They went into a guest room adjoining it, with a twin bed of simple wood and a three-fourth bathroom. It was just on the size of cozy rather than tiny, with not much more than a dresser and rocking chair that matched Regina's luscious tastes.

 

"Do you like it?" Regina asked.

 

"If you opened a bed and breakfast, you might do better business than Granny. Ruby does wear less around here," Emma said, her arms folded. Regina almost laughed, putting the back of her hand to her mouth. Emma had calmed down enough to merely be snippy.

 

"It's yours," Regina said. She was pleased with Emma's look of surprise; it wasn't like she'd ever get a swoon. "Decorate however you wish, put your things here, it's all fine with me. No one else will come in here. If we sleep in here, we won't be disturbed. I can even have a lock put on the door, if you wish."

 

Emma snorted a laugh. "I can't just _live here_ …"

 

"Obviously not." Like Emma was an animal that'd started wagging its tail, Regina felt safe to approach. "But I want you to have a space all to yourself. Somewhere you can shower and change into fresh clothes, so you can go home not looking like you've done _exactly_ what you've done."

 

Emma shivered. Regina saw the effect she was having on her; that last little bit of defiance in her eyes at war with the promise of temptation.

 

"I should get back home," she mumbled, unable to look at from Regina's eyes as they searched her for what next should be bitten, licked, sucked…

 

"I don't want you to go home," Regina told her, open lust in her voice. She rested her hand on Emma's chest, heel against her collarbone, fingers cresting the sweet curve of her neck.

 

"I… I…" Emma began to stutter.

 

Regina gave her a tiny push toward the bed, not much more than a gust of wind. It got Emma moving. Step by step… "You had your turn. Then Ruby had her turn. Now it's your turn again. Isn't that fair, my sweet girl? Doesn't that sound good?"

 

Emma's legs hit the bed. Regina held her there a moment, her hand slowly moving lower. Then Emma grabbed fistfuls of Regina's robe and pulled the Mayor down atop her…

 

***

 

Regina spoke into the phone as if she didn't have Emma slanted across her lap, the tiny confines of the bed forcing them skin-to-skin to stay under the same sheet. She'd have to buy a queen-sized if she wanted to get any sleep in it. Then again, she could get used to falling asleep with Emma holding her down like a paperweight.

 

"I'm sorry for all the trouble, Miss Blanchard, but Emma has been here the whole time. Yes, she came over to work on a school project, then said she felt dizzy. I gave her some Aspirin, but soon she was in no condition to drive and I told her she could use the guest bedroom. I sent you an e-mail; you didn't get it? Yes, I completely understand if you want to come over, I'll set an extra place for you at the breakfast table. You can at least let me do that for you, I'd hate to think the poor girl had an allergic reaction to something in my house. Oh, she's been feeling feverish lately? Hopefully she'll feel better after a good night's sleep."

 

Regina brought her hand to Emma's breast and squeezed it with the lazy ownership of a stress ball, the look on the girl's face equal parts mortified and thrilled. Regina felt Emma's nipple spring to life against her palm.

 

"Yes, I think she's definitely feeling better. Would you like to talk to her?" Emma shook her head frantically; she took Regina's hand and brought it to her other breast. Regina squeezed tighter. "Oh, sorry, she's gone back to sleep. Yes, I know, it must be a chore for you to get her out of bed every morning. It's like she wants to stay there all day. Yes, I'll expect you in an hour. Good day, Miss Blanchard."

 

She hung up and dropped the cell phone on Emma's hip.

 

"I do hope she calls back. I have it set to Vibrate."

 

Emma shivered delightedly and got another kiss from Regina, then kicked the sheets off. "I have time for a shower. Think you could run my clothes through the dryer a little?"

 

"Certainly. And then we could make that apple pie we talked about yesterday. I'm sure Mary-Margaret would love a slice."

 

Emma smiled a little seriously. "You really get off on doing this under her nose, don't you?"

 

Regina picked up the phone and hid herself behind sending a text. "No more than you, dearest. Be honest, her whole act—building birdhouses and listening to hummingbirds and _sewing_ —all that _shit_ —it's so much fun to leave all that behind, come here, and get _fucked._ Isn't it?"

 

Surprised, Emma just said "You're a little intense in the mornings."

 

Regina got up, taking a moment to stretch in the morning sun—a moment Emma greatly enjoyed—then took up her kimono from the foot of the bed, hanging it over her arm. "We're two of a kind, Emma. Don't ever forget that."

 

***

 

A brisk shower later, Emma went to the laundry room to get her clothes out of the dryer. She quickly changed from the towel to the revitalized clothes, their warmth reminding her of Regina's oh-so-recent touch. Maybe Regina was right about her. Maybe she'd been born into the wrong family, and if Regina had raised her, they would've been some kind of ultra-simpatico mother-daughter duo.

 

Then again, they _really_ would not have been able to do some—most of the things they'd been doing recently. Mommy Regina letting her stay out late on school nights wasn't worth that.

 

She went to the kitchen, expecting Regina in another stunningly professional black ensemble, and instead found Ruby. The other girl was dressed in a relaxed version of housekeeping clothes; jeans, a semi-translucent top, and a cooking apron that hid just how translucent her top really was. She was kneading some dough when Emma came in, a big mug of coffee next to her area of countertop.

 

Didn't you make pie crust with dough?

 

"Regina wanted us to get started without her. Sent me a text about it." Ruby picked up the dough and casually slammed it down. "If you wanna help, find me some plastic wrap."

 

Emma automatically scanned the cabinets for a clue where the plastic wrap was before looking back at Ruby. "You cook for her now?"

 

"I don't say no to her," Ruby corrected. "Plus, she seems to think there's some tension between us. Wants us to work it out through baking."

 

"No tension," Emma said, walking to the far cabinet. "Just don't fuck anyone I'm spooning with and we'll be fine."

 

"Oh, man," Ruby chortled. "Look, I'm sorry if I blew your mind there, but honestly? It was totally hot. You should start something with Reggie when I'm on a leash. Turnabout's fair play."

 

Emma bristled—something about the way she said 'leash'. All cool and casual, like who hasn't played the leash sex game? She didn't respond until she found the plastic wrap, hiding behind the Tupperware.

 

"I'm not with Regina because it's 'hot'. We were sharing a moment and you… intruded!"

 

"Holy shit, you're really gone on her." Ruby split the ball of dough in half and stuck one into the plastic wrap, then held it out to Emma. "Put that in the fridge, will ya?"

 

"Do it yourself."

 

Ruby raised her eyebrows as she took the dough to the refrigerator. "This could be a problem."

 

"Yeah, it is a problem."

 

"Not _us_. You and Regina. You really think you're, like, boyfriend—girlfriend."

 

"Neither of us is the boyfriend," Emma corrected her, momentarily hating how snide she sounded, but fuck it, it was Ruby.

 

"Wow. I did _not_ think you were that immature."

 

"Immature? I'm not the one throwing myself at Regina like some kind of—"

 

"Do you really think I could be in the same room as her without her wanting me there? It was as much her idea as mine. Maybe she didn't say it first, but that's why we're seeing each other. Because I'm fucked up like that. And hey, you're not exactly a vestal virgin either."

 

"That wasn't about sex. She _wanted_ to hold me." As she said it, Emma realized what a strange emphasis that was in the sentence. It felt like she'd tripped over a word, but no, that was what she'd meant to say.

 

"Okay, so you hug," Ruby said, hand on her hip. "That doesn't make you soulmates. I'm not selling Regina short—she's great, really, she's been good to me. But trust me, she doesn't see you that way. She's not looking for a relationship. You're young. You're new. And she's getting something from you she doesn't get from me. But that doesn't make you married."

 

"What do you know about it?" Emma demanded. She felt like her blood was boiling—she wanted to slap Ruby, claw her eyes out, kick when she was down.

 

"I know what she likes," Ruby said, cool and confident, the bitch. "She likes fucking and she likes being fucked. She doesn't want hugs and she doesn't want to cuddle. I'm not saying this to hurt you; I don't _want_ you to get hurt. But you have to consider that maybe you're seeing something that isn't there. That she's humoring you."

 

"Regina would never lie to me."

 

"She wouldn't have to. You do it for her."

 

Emma's hand actually twitched—it _wanted_ to move to Ruby's face and slap the taste out of her mouth for saying that shit. The realization was what stopped Emma. The thought that she was actually going to _hit_ Ruby like some kind of… like she was the kind of person who would do that. So she held it still as Regina walked in.

 

Mary-Margaret trailed behind her, marveling at the décor. It took Emma a second to remember she'd never seen it before. Then she spotted Emma and hurried to her, planting a hand on her forehead.

 

"Ma!" Emma growled, all her frustration transferring to Mary-Margaret.

 

"Oh, don't you feel pinkish," Mary-Margaret asked rhetorically. "I'll get her home. Thank you so much for looking after her, Madame Mayor."

 

"My pleasure," Regina said. "Your daughter is a very charming young woman. I could get used to spending time with her."

 

"Emma and I were just helping the Mayor with her apple pie," Ruby chimed. "We were just starting on the crust."

 

Regina finished, smiling so disarmingly it was a wonder her jaw didn't unhinge. "We were hoping to have it done soon enough for Emma to take it home with her. I don't know how much dessert you let this one eat, but according to her, I have the finest pie she's ever tasted."

 

Emma felt herself turning so red that, if the lights were turned off, they could read a newspaper with her.

 

"She's definitely coming down with something," Mary-Margaret said, one eye trained on Emma no matter how much Regina and Ruby swirled around her. "I really would look forward to it if we could have dinner something, but for now… baking… Aren't you worried you'll catch what she has?"

 

"Oh, I'd be far more worried about her catching something from us," Regina said. As sweetly as ever.

 

Mary-Margaret's preternaturally smooth brow crinkled in the slightest. She didn't know what that meant and neither, quite frankly, did Emma.

 

"Well, we should get going," Mary-Margaret said after a moment.

 

"It's like being a child again," Regina said, subtly leaning in their way… and then back out again. "Asking if Emma can come out to play."

 

"It won't be the same without her," Ruby chimed again, and Emma fumed. Yeah, she'd just bet.

 

"We'll have to send a get-well package," Regina continued. "Flowers and such. Do expect it."

 

"Certainly. I'll bring it straight to her."

 

Before Regina allowed them to leave, escape—the whole thing had the feel of an audience with the queen—the Mayor brought Emma close for a hug. "Get well soon," she wished, her hand cinched in the small of Emma's back. With one little twitch, it could be down her pants, on the curve of her ass. And then she'd be Regina's, right in front of her mother, she'd do anything the older woman asked of her.

 

But Regina released her, like a little fish into a big pond. "Run along now."

 

Emma did, walking briskly with her mother. Mary-Margaret was running _toward_ their home, while Emma was fleeing _away_ from Regina and all the wonderful, terrible things she could feel.

 

She'd learned two things in her first night at Regina's. First, that Regina held undeniable power over her.

 

Second, that Emma couldn't bring herself to care.


	18. April Fool's Day

It seemed like a nice, normal day in Storybrooke, but it wasn't. Mary-Margaret's first clue of that should've been when her doorbell rang, but she didn't know who it was once. But once she opened the door, she did, and she knew it wasn't another pleasant day. Not wholly, but she did know.

 

"Hello Miss Mayor," she said tightly, trying hard to summon up the good cheer she found it so easy to greet others with.

 

"Madame Mayor," Regina corrected. She held up a Tupperware container with a very appetizing apple turnover inside. "May I come in? I come bearing gifts."

 

"Certainly. Emma isn't here though." Mary-Margaret wasn't sure why she'd assumed Regina had come looking for Emma; it bothered her. "School."

 

"That's alright, I came to see you. But first, try my latest creation. It's a new recipe."

 

Obediently, Mary-Margaret opened the container and got a fork from her silverware drawer. She took a bite before Regina's anticipating eyes and moaned in contentment. "It's very good!"

 

"Yes, you and I have that in common," Regina said. "Everything we create has a delicious taste."

 

"Oh, I didn't know you've had my cooking. Has Emma brought it with her when she comes over?"

 

"I was actually referring to Emma when she comes." Regina held up a hand to her mouth, as if shocked. "Oh, listen to me, I'm so nervous. Cat's out of the bag, I guess, might as well stop trying to butter you up. I'm here to ask for Emma's hand in marriage."

 

"Excuse me!" Mary-Margaret fairly squeaked.

 

"Call me old-fashioned, but when one has… well, let's say taken the car for a test drive—and one so extensive that the resale value has been _grossly_ reduced—they're honorbound to make the purchase. And why not? Your daughter already cooks and cleans for me, in addition to our leisure activities. We might as not make it official."

 

"If this is a joke, I find it to be in _really_ poor taste," Emma's mother replied in a low voice.

 

"No, I'm serious, I've been making love to your daughter. I fucked her at the theater while you went to get popcorn. I spent all night fucking her when she spent the night at my house. And you see that counter over there? Remember when you off at that parent-teacher conference last week? I don't suppose you recall coming home and finding Emma had taken it upon herself to scrub the thing clean. Vaseline can make such a mess."

 

Mary-Margaret had shrunken in on herself, hearing of Emma's degradations and the evident pride in Regina's voice, but now she lunged to her toes. "Get out of my house!"

 

Regina smiled in appreciation at seeing a little of the old Snow White poke through. "Certainly. I've informed you of our relationship and poisoned you, so it's time for me to get to the next appointment." She checked her watch. "Finished early, actually. I have time for a bagel."

 

"Poisoned me?" Mary-Margaret asked. She did indeed feel tired. She thought it'd been the shock of learning the truth, but now she felt her stomach curdling, her vision darkening. "You're crazy!"

 

"Crazy about your daughter." Regina went to the refrigerator and browsed through it, looking for a snack for the road. She settled on a tube of Go-Gurt. She also took a container of syrup that'd been left out on the cupboard. "By the way, Emma's expressed an interest in drinking maple syrup out of my bottom, so do you mind if I borrow this? I'll clean it off."

 

Mary-Margaret collapsed.

 

***

 

In a few hours, Emma returned from school and found her mother sprawled across the kitchen's linoleum floor. Minutes after that, they were in an ambulance, racing to the emergency room. Regina waited until the latest episode of Passions was over, then went to visit, sprucing up Mary-Margaret's room with a bouquet of flowers.

 

Emma was inconsolable, of course, but Regina had fun trying, holding Emma in her arms, feeling her warmth and bouncy young flesh. She gave Emma several good squeezes and imagined all the fun she could have with that girlish skin once she got Emma alone.

 

"You'll stay at my place, of course," Regina said, after she'd soothed Emma with a good deal of sweet nothings (she'd had trouble coming up with any real sympathy, but luckily the internet had had a list of the right things to say under the circumstances). "I won't hear anything else."

 

"Thank you, Regina. I love you so much."

 

Mary-Margaret's heart monitor let out a threatening beep, like a cell phone running out of power. Neither noticed.

 

"You shouldn't stay here," Regina said. "You'll just worry yourself to death. Let me take you home. I promise to do everything I can to take your mind off this dreadful day."

 

"Yeah. Sure. Thanks," Emma replied numbly, staring on at Mary-Margaret. "Could you give us a moment alone?"

 

"Certainly," Regina said, and went to wait outside.

 

Emma lulled over to her mother. She didn't know what to say to her at the best of times. Now, she knew there was nothing she could say that would make her wake up, that was up to the doctors, but what if there was something Mary-Margaret could hear, something that would let her know how Emma really loved her?

 

There was only one thing to say. Emma clasped Mary-Margaret's hand in both of hers, trying to push some of her love from skin to skin. "I'm so glad you’re my mother," she said vehemently, and kissed Mary-Margaret's wrist.

 

Mary-Margaret gasped. The heart monitor shrieked. Her eyes flickered open.

 

"Mommy!" Emma yelped. She hit the call button, over and over again, as if it would teleport a doctor into the room.

 

"Emma—" Mary-Margaret said painfully. "Wha—where… I remember. We were in the castle, now we're—you must've broken the curse, but how?"

 

"Mommy, you're scaring me," Emma said, hitting the button like she was trying to break it.

 

"True love's kiss—of course. Of course. Listen, Emma, this is very important. Regina is not who she says she is."

 

"What? What does Regina have to do about this?"

 

"She told me about your relationship." Mary-Margaret didn't look from Emma even as Dr. Whale swept into the room and ran to check her vitals. "She's using you, Emma, she's using you to get to me. She poisoned me. You have to get away from here!"

 

"I don't understand! What're you talking about?"

 

Finished taking Mary-Margaret's heartbeat, Whale took a small syringe from his lab coat and injected it into Mary-Margaret's IV.

 

"She's not the Mayor, Emma. _She's the Evil Queen._ She blames me for—" Mary-Margaret broke off with a queer look. She looked at her wrist, at Whale, at the IV and the syringe. "He doesn't have a heart…"

 

"Mom?"

 

Suddenly, Mary-Margaret seized, her spine twisting and propelling almost her entire body out of bed. She screamed, choked, shot back down to the hospital bed. Emma threw herself back as another contortion flung Mary-Margaret around.

 

"What was in that shot!?" Emma demanded of the numb Dr. Whale.

 

"I… don't know. I was just supposed to give it to her if she woke up."

 

" _Who gave it to you!_ "

 

"I don't… remember," Whale said in confusion. Then a flailing Mary-Margaret arm knocked Regina's flowers off the nightstand. Whale jumped in to administer first aid.

 

By then Regina was back in the room. She wrapped an arm around Emma like a tentacle would wrap around a schoolgirl in a Japanese anime and led her away. "You shouldn't see this, darling, oh, you shouldn't see this…"

 

***

 

Her mother was dead.

 

Emma still couldn't believe it, even though she couldn't think about anything else. Regina had borne her away, back to her car and back to her house and now into her bedroom, Emma's bedroom that is, where Regina stripped her and fed her something mildly alcoholic and tucked her in. "There, there, Emma. Don't you worry. I'll take good care of you."

 

"Whale, he… he gave her something. She said he didn't have a heart and he gave her something… she's dead now."

 

"I'll have Sheriff Graham look into it. Please, you mustn't worry about these things. It'll all be taken care of. I'll see to it. All you have to concern yourself with is a good night's sleep. Don't so much as study for school tomorrow, you won't be expected to attend. You can stay here with me."

 

"Yes…" Emma said numbly. "Yes. I need sleep. I'm so tired."

 

She curled up in the sheets Regina had given her, the linen so cool and the comforter so warm, and blanked out as soon as her head hit the pillow. She didn't awaken until the middle of the night, when she heard the door creak open.

 

"I'm sorry," Regina said, "I didn't mean to wake you. I just wanted to… well, check up on you."

 

"S'alright," Emma mumbled. Her mouth felt desiccated. When Regina held out a glass of water, she drunk it greedily. "None of this feels real. It's all like… a joke, or a prank. I should wake up from this. Why can't I wake up?"

 

"It'll feel like you have," Regina assured her. "One day you'll wake up and it'll be as if this all happened over thirty years ago. Time flies in this town, Emma. You'll see."

 

"Whale. Did you get Whale?"

 

"Yes, Emma. He's been arrested. Sheriff Graham is interrogating him now. It seems as if… Emma, I hate to ask you this, but was your mother seeing Dr. Whale?"

 

" _What?_ "

 

"We found several of her things in his possession. Intimate items. Underwear… handcuffs. Certain… costumes. Apparently, they had some sort of relationship. Emma, do you know what a furry is?"

 

"Yeah. Like… people who dress up as animals and—you're saying _my mother_ …"

 

"She was a mongoose, he was a cobra. It never could've worked out. We've checked a number of social media sites and apparently she ended things. I suppose, when he saw her like that, something in him snapped."

 

"Oh my god," Emma muttered. "Oh my god."

 

"It's not your fault, Emma. No one could've seen this coming. Although… Mary-Margaret always has been good with animals. Nothing _seemed_ sinister about the bluebirds, but then, nothing ever does. But don't think about that, Emma. All you should remember is that Mary-Margaret is in a better place now. And she's watching over you. And now, she's going to see me rail you like a little bitch."

 

Emma's eyes popped open. "What was that last part?"

 

Regina was stripping her trousers down. "C'mon, Emma. We both know only one thing can make you forget that your mother was killed over a series of pseudo-bestiality sex acts. And that's a deep dicking from yours truly."

 

"But… but… you're a woman!"

 

"Ehhhh. I get around."

 

And that's when Emma saw it. As soon as Regina pulled off her panties, _it_ popped out. A penis. A dick. A cock. And while it somewhat messed with the otherwise feminine aesthetic Emma had come to like about Regina, a lot could be forgiven given how big it was.

 

"That… doesn't look like a strap-on," Emma said in shock. "How…?"

 

"A magician never reveals her secrets," Regina said. "Now, what's first on the menu? Handsies, blowsies, or should we just shove it right in like farmers?"

 

"Regina, I'm—I mean, as far as _that_ goes, I'm still a virgin."

 

"Not for long!" Regina assured her, and ripped the sheets from the bed. Emma was almost speechless as Regina descended on her, tearing the clothes from her flesh with a strength that seemed borderline superheroic, then parting her thighs with a huff of effort and anticipatory delight. Emma squealed as _it_ dropped down heavily on her lower belly, hot and warm and vaguely moist, like the feeling you got wearing a wet sock but closer to her genitals. Regina reached down, tweaking Emma's nipples in turn before starting to rub her considerable new endowment to hardness.

 

"Ever baste a turkey for Thanksgiving dinner?" Regina asked. "Here's how the turkey feels!" And with that, she shoved her now rock-hard prong deep within Emma, quickly making her progress all the way from her clitoris to her ovaries to her womb. Emma hadn't noticed, but the sight of Regina with both boobs and a ten-inch hero had made her so wet that coitus was, for the penis, like a kid going on a Slip-N-Slide with a skin condition that made him sweat butter. Emma hadn't even noticed Regina knocking her hymen out of the way like a quality hole punch from Staples.

 

Emma suddenly locked her legs around Regina back and gave a series of heavenly sex bunts on her prodder. “You’re fucked, girl!” Regina gasped; she’d never had such sex pleasure.

 

"Not a girl anymore!" Emma went, thrusting on Regina's big cock, impaling herself. Mixed blood and oil gave fabulous service to Regina's sliding shaft. "A woman!"

 

"And what a woman!" Regina replied, as she jammed her sex-rock into Emma like it was a power tool whose instruction manual she had not read.

 

“Something’s going to happen!” Emma cried.

 

Regina could not help her in this exquisite moment of fast prick friction. She was totally lost in the sweet, hot flesh, the enveloping, satiny package of her body and especially in that tight little deflowered heaven that was now no longer a vagina, but Regina's personal playground. Not one of those new-fangled playgrounds where the only way a kid could get hurt was having a name that was easy to make fun of. One with a jungle gym that could drop you twelve stories in kid-miles, and a Tilt-A-Whirl rated for the Large Hadron Collider, and bare metal slides you could boil an egg on!

 

Emma's tight young body strained up, locked and her cunt went into spasms. Throb, throb, throb. She sighed and fell back on the bed, only to shoot up again, buttocks tight, loins grinding Regina. Throb, throb, throb.

 

“Ahhhhhh,” she keened.

 

Regina could’ve expected it. A magnificent body like this would produce fierce, healthy girl orgasms. She drove Emma through her fun spasms while she whined and keened and peed a little, finally to fall back under Regina on the satin spread, exhausted, face shining with moisture, eyes dazed.

 

It was all Regina's now. She ached all over and thrilled to super-fun heights as she drew close to her own moment of glory. Pure erotic fun ran through her whole body like cars on the ultimate Hot Wheels playset as she panted to plant her womanly manhood deep in Emma's cunt, against her waiting womb. A Marty Stu in a Wonder Woman fanfic couldn't have fucked harder.

 

Suddenly the giant fist of orgasm gripped Regina's belly, thighs, cock and balls. She went tight and paralyzed with a wounded grunt.

 

“Uh, huh, huh!”

 

She went dizzy. Regina felt spinning, exalting leaps of pleasure. Virgin cunt deflowered and won!

 

Spurt, spurt, spurt. Gorgeous shots of jism unlocked her packed, congested sex system like traffic finally opening up after listening to Top 40 radio hits for forty-five goddamn minutes even though they were on an overpass. The relief and good feeling were like getting a pizza fifteen minutes after you ordered it, and also being given breadsticks at no extra charge.

 

“Ahhhhh!”

 

Spurt, spurt, spurt. So much, a continent of sperm throbbing and, gushing out of Regina's reservoirs. She had climbed straight up to joyous lust heaven.

 

“Uh, ah, ah, ah!”

 

Emma was her passive receptacle, the sexy, dazed woman clinging to Regina, powerless to stop her hands from holding her cunt glove tight to her belly as she pumped her body full of her manhood and meaning, centering every drop deep, deep into her belly. Emma jerked a little in surprise as she felt Regina's virile sperm shots.

 

“Hoooo,” she sang. “I think I’m wet. I’m really wet. I think you’ve got an ocean in me.”

 

Finally she was empty and glowing. It felt so good that Regina just folded down on her soft yet firm body completely lust-emptied. The act had completely erased all sex from the room, like a mother walking in on her teenage son viewing pornography.

 

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING YOU MOTHERFUKERS!" Ruby shouted, rushing into the room. She saw Emma and Regina cuddling, Regina's cock splayed between Emma's thighs like a bicycle seat, and tears exploded from her eyes. "Regina, you said you'd only use your magical werewolf cock with me! I thought I was your only cock-slut!"

 

"Ruby, I swear, it's just a dildo!"

 

"Liar!" Ruby swore, and drew her Colt .45 from her purse. She fired one shot into Emma's heart, then aimed at Regina. But she couldn't bring herself to kill the woman she loved. She shot herself instead, but unfortunately hit herself in the shoulder and injured her gun-hand. She dropped the gun and went to fashion a noose.

 

"It wasn't supposed to be this way," Regina sobbed, looking at Emma who was not dead, but c'mon, she wouldn't last long. "I had real feelings for you! It started around Chapter 7, in case anyone was wondering!"

 

"That's nice, Regina, but… I know you killed my mother." Reaching into her purse, Emma drew a Glock 9MM and shot Regina in the heart.

 

"Shit, I really shouldn't have just downloaded Storybrooke's gun control laws off the internet," Regina said, dying.

 

"But I still love you," Emma insisted, dropping the gun.

 

"Actually, but my standards, this is a pretty healthy relationship."

 

"One last kiss?"

 

"Yes," Regina agreed. Emma moved in, lips pursed, but Regina grabbed her by the hair. "Not up here. Down there."

 

Emma looked down, to where Regina had gotten a headstart on a death-stiffie. "Seriously now?"

 

"C'mon, I'm dying."

 

"So am I, you bitch!"

 

Ruby suddenly ran back into the room. "Guys, I found Jesus and converted to Christianity! And I met Dean Winchester! We're getting married!"

 

Emma and Regina looked at each other. Quite gratefully, they died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> April Fool's.


	19. Chapter 19

Mary-Margaret bought the lie about Emma being sick, meaning that while she had memory of spending the night with Regina to keep her warm, now she had to play sick. And she actually felt bad about missing school; she wouldn't get to see her friends, she'd miss out on the classes that were actually fun, and instead of doing her homework while goofing off with her girlfriends in a free period, Mary-Margaret just dumped it on her all at once. Some bitch had been nice enough to get it for her. She'd just have to lie in bed and do one problem after another.

 

Angsting about missing school. Maybe she was a goody-two-shoes.

 

She'd been spacing out her homework with the stacks of Cosmos her mother had allowed her to read, rewarding herself with one article for every ten answers to things she would never need to know when she was an adult. So she was about halfway done and had learned five tricks to do in bed that would keep her man from ever looking at another woman (one of them involved eggs). Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

 

"Yeah?" Emma called, and Mary-Margaret opened the door. Only it seemed more like she got the door for Regina, since no one could open a door in that woman's presence without seeming like they were getting it for her.

 

Mary-Margaret was wearing a smart business suit instead of her usual flower-print blouse, but as stylish as it was, she couldn't hold a candle to Regina even with the mayor dressed down in a pant suit with a black vest and white blouse.

 

"You have visitors," Mary-Margaret said, as Regina pulled up a chair. Ruby was with her, holding a picnic basket with a towel-covered pie pan on top. For her part, she wore a football jersey just loose enough to invite some questions as to the nature of her bra, and shorts that might've been designed to cut off circulation.

 

"Apparently," Regina said, folding her hands innocently, "your mother just got called in for a job interview at the new bookstore. Naturally, she doesn't want to leave you alone in your condition, but I just happened to call to see how you were feeling. I was just thinking that some fresh air, a walk in the park, and a little hot food might do you some good."

 

"Just as long as she finishes her homework," Mary-Margaret insisted. "And see to it she doesn't get into anything that would make her bug worse. No desserts, carbonated beverages, spicy foods—"

 

"Mom, I'm not a child, okay, I'm not going to shove anything in my mouth labeled rat poison."

 

"The way you eat a bag of chips, I have my doubts."

 

"Mom!"

 

"I promise I'll watch her closely, Ms. Blanchard," Regina said, smiling benignly. "And I'm as concerned about teenage nutrition as you are. We'll see if we can find her something to eat that tastes good to her and is pleasing to me as well."

 

"Good luck with that," Mary-Margaret replied. "Emma was the fussiest eater growing up. She wouldn't eat anything I'd put in her mouth!"

 

Ruby stifled a giggle. When Mary-Margaret looked at her, she just said "Good luck at your interview, Mrs. Blanchard."

 

"Thanks." Mary-Margaret checked her watch. "Oh, I'm late! Regina, I really hate to leave on such short notice—you're sure you can work from here?"

 

"It's just some paperwork, and I hardly think Emma will have a seizure. All that's going to happen tonight is Ruby is going to gossip with your daughter about Channing Tatum and I'm going to enjoy a change of scenery. One more second in that office and _I'd_ be sick."

 

"Alright, I'm leaving, thank you, thank you so much—" Mary-Margaret looked around frantically. Her eyes settled on her purse, back in the living room, and she went to grab it. "Emma, call if you need anything! And thank Regina for taking the time to look after you, she's a very busy woman!" And with those last shouted words, Mary-Margaret was out the door.

 

Regina stood up, idly strolling by the bed. Emma suddenly felt like a maiden being paid a visit by Count Dracula. "You heard your mother, Emma. Thank me."

 

Emma's mouth went familiarly dry. "How?"

 

Regina pulled back her covers. "Get dressed. We're having a picnic. Ruby will take care of your homework."

 

"I will?" Ruby cried, looking up from a book of Emma's she'd been paging through.

 

"Absolutely. You graduated high school. This should all be old-hat to you."

 

"Regina, come on." Ruby pouted. "I wanted to go on the picnic."

 

Regina smiled understandingly at her. And, stepping closer, she slipped a hand up Ruby's shirt and pinched her nipple. Emma could see it through the fabric. She wasn't wearing a bra after all.

 

"Do you like being punished, Ruby?" Regina's voice had shifted without warning. It was lower, colder. "Sometimes I think you do. I think you like knowing that you're mine. Mine to punish. Mine to reward."

 

"Yours…" Ruby repeated faithfully, her eyes closed. Regina was twisting her nipple so far it had to be painful.

 

"I can discipline you at any time. But I'm going out with Emma now. So you're going to be a good bitch and follow my commands. When I say heel, you _heel._ Understand?"

 

"Yes mistress," Ruby said rapidly, almost under her breath.

 

"Good." Regina released Ruby and turned to Emma, a smile back on her face. "Come along, Emma. The food's getting cold."

 

***

 

The park was only a couple blocks from home, something Emma was sure Mary-Margaret had taken into account when buying the place. With the sun setting, the streets were mostly empty and the mossy woods were abandoned—people had fled in anticipation of a Maine chill. But it hadn't shown up yet, a warm front keeping things crisp and cozy, as if Regina were holding back the night with sheer force of personality. They spread out a blanket, sat down on the banks of a lake full of swans, and poured each other apple cider. Regina toasted them and Emma giggled, drunk on Regina since the cider was non-alcoholic.

 

"I'm sorry about Ruby," Regina said, opening up an array of Tupperware containers, spreading out dinner for them. "She sees your… independence and thinks that's what I want from her. She doesn't see that our relationships are different." She looked at Emma. "Do you?"

 

"Of course. Yeah. Ruby is your…" Emma's voice fell, "bitch, and I'm… you know…"

 

"Labels can be so difficult, can't they?" Regina sighed. "That's what I wanted to discuss, after a fashion."

 

"You mean you didn't just want to look at how pretty I am in the sunset?" Emma held out her hand, turned golden by the dying light.

 

"No one ever said I can't multitask." Regina reached out and undid the top button of the blouse Emma had thrown on, but it was purely an aesthetic consideration—a brushstroke on the painting she was making of the two of them. Nevertheless, Emma warmed. "You do understand—what I have with Ruby doesn't diminish what we have. Anymore than… drinking apple cider means I don't like tea."

 

"Doesn't that depend on how much tea you drink?"

 

"You're feeling neglected?"

 

"No. No, you're great. It's just that what you have with Ruby seems so special. The way she looked at you back there—she would've done anything for you. I thought you two were going to jump each other in my bed. Again."

 

Regina smiled warmly. There was a plate of cupcakes on a plate in front of her. She took one and pushed the rest toward Emma. "Ruby is a very special woman. She can handle a lot of my… foibles. But I don't know if you and I can have exactly what she and I have. Like I said—she's a beta. A submissive."

 

"I suppose she wouldn't take too kindly to me being the dome."

 

"Dom," Regina corrected, her tongue darting out to lick a tiny outcropping from the cupcake's frosting. "And yes, I don't imagine it would end well if you told her to lick your boots—or do your homework, for that matter."

 

"Shame. I could use someone to do my homework. Like, a nerd in an eighties teen movie."

 

Regina giggled. "Perhaps I should have a talk with your teachers. Get them to assign you less. 'I'm sorry, Mr. Stanley, but all the algebra work you're giving Emma is cutting into the time she could be spending eating my cunt.'"

 

Emma clapped a hand over her mouth, she laughed so hard. Her ears burning at the idea, at the word. "God!"

 

Regina took a big bite of her cupcake. In the time it took her to swallow, they calmed down. "I do understand, though. You don't just want convenience. You want something unique. True love, or some such."

 

"I wouldn't… I mean…" Emma was shell-shocked. Was Regina saying she loved her? Or didn't love her? Or what?

 

"You know what you want." Regina wiped her chin off with the back of her hand. "And something I quite like about you is how you don't dance around what you truly desire—actually need. Say it, Emma. Name it and it's yours."

 

Emma busied herself with her own cupcake, unwrapping it from its little cupcake skirt. "I was just wondering… was Ruby a virgin when you met her?"

 

Regina's eyebrows raised, bemused. Then she slowly nodded. "She wasn't exactly experienced when I met her, but she definitely wasn't a stranger to what we were doing. Why? Does that bother you?"

 

"No, it's just… I've never… I mean we did, but there are certain…"

 

Regina shifted closer, pursing her hands on Emma's shaking shoulders. She rubbed gently, insistently. "It's alright, Emma. I'm here. I'm listening."

 

"I know we've had sex, but I'm still a virgin. At least a little bit. With, you know… this hymen shit? And I know there are ways to… take care of that."

 

"Yes," Regina nodded. "Certainly. Not that I subscribe to the importance of such a thing—a bit of blood and a sharp pain, who cares? But I respect its importance to the individual."

 

"I want it to be you," Emma blurted out. "I want you to… take my virginity." She said it slowly now, like they were words in another language. "Can you?"

 

Regina's busy fingers shifted to Emma's hair, petting it sweetly. "How do you picture it?"

 

"You'd… you'd have one of those things. You know, like a dildo, but where—God, this sounds idiotic—"

 

"A strap-on," Regina said sweetly, winding a strand of golden hair around her finger. "A strap-on dildo."

 

"Yeah," Emma nodded. "A big black one. Not too big, but not, you know—small."

 

"Just the right size," Regina breathed, "for just the right girl."

 

"Yes. And then—you'd be gentle? Like you were the first time?"

 

"Of course. If that's what you wanted."

 

"It is. But only the first time. After that, I'd want you to do with me—whatever it is that makes you feel good. Because I know I'd like it."

 

"You don't want to be a virgin anymore," Regina whispered in Emma's ear, starting to pull on her hair forcefully.

 

"No."

 

"You want me to _fuck_ you," Regina hissed with a hard tug on Emma's hair.

 

"Yes!" Emma cried. "Only…" Her voice dropped. Regina let her hair slip through her fingers. "It makes me so nervous. Just talking about it makes me nervous. I know I shouldn't—you were right, it's just blood—but it feels almost like… my mother wants me to stay a virgin until my wedding night, and part of me still says that I can do that. That I forget about all this and be her good little girl again."

 

"You're not her good little girl," Regina said. "You're mine."

 

"Just… get me drunk or something. Tie me down. I want to do this, Regina, I just _can't_."

 

"I'll take care of it," Regina promised. "We just have to get you comfortable with the side of you that wants this. The dark side."

 

Emma gulped in air from a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. "Sounds kinky," she laughed, reaching for her cider.

 

Regina let her have a drink. "Have you ever wondered about what it is Ruby and I do?"

 

"A little… she calls you mistress, you call her slave, there's a lot of leather… good clean fun."

 

"And have you ever wanted to join in?"

 

Emma was silent.

 

"I saw your face when I was disciplining Ruby. Tell me… were you imagining yourself in my place, or in hers?"

 

"I don't know, it's just that stuff is really, really—" she almost said wrong, "naughty."

 

"Yes. It is. Do you want it, Emma? Do you want to at least try it?"

 

Emma shook her head a little. "What if I wasn't any good at it?"

 

Regina stilled her with two fingers on her chin. "Come now, Emma—at least give me a chance to corrupt you."

 

Faced with that, all Emma could do was nod.

 

***

 

They walked arm in arm back home, Emma carrying the picnic basket, of course. Regina whispering in her ear. "Bondage," she said, "isn't about pain. It's about control. All relationships are, really, but bondage is about the _sharing_ of control. Most people aren't comfortable with that. They like rigid boundaries. They'd say that what I do to Ruby is degrading. But I _give_ Ruby power. She has a power over me equal to the one I have over her. Do you know what that is?"

 

"The safe word," Emma said. She'd be lying if she said she hadn't visited a few Wikipedia pages.

 

"That's right. I don't want you to feel any need to please me, Emma. This is going to be about you. And if you feel uncomfortable for any reason, I'd like you to say a phrase. It doesn't even have to mean we'll stop. We can just pause and—talk about what we're doing. Understand?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Now, the phrase will be Snow White. Repeat it for me."

 

"Snow White."

 

"Good girl. Remember, Snow White means we stop. Here we are."

 

They were back, but it didn't feel like home anymore. Stepping through the door, knowing Ruby was in there and Mary-Margaret wasn't, it felt like the champagne room at a strip club.

 

"Emma," Regina said, "do you like being in control or under control?"

 

"I don't know… when you were touching Ruby, I wasn't thinking of whose place I wanted to be in. I just liked it."

 

"Mmmm." Regina touched Emma's cheek fondly, then ran a manicured nail all the way from Emma's ear over to her chin. "Are you ready to find out what you like?"

  
"Yes ma'am."

 

"Ma'am." Regina grinned. "You certainly have the right attitude. Come."

 

She led her to her bedroom, seeming to know her way around the place very well for someone who'd only just visited. Ruby was right where they'd left her, listening to her iPod on Emma's bed as she checked the answers on Emma's homework. Seeing Regina, she sprang up like a dog whose master was unlocking the front door.

 

"No, no, stay right there," Regina said in a firm, but kind, voice. "I like you just the way you are."

 

Ruby was lying on her belly, legs bent up at the knees and her head running over the side of the bed, looking down at a textbook on the floor. When she lowered her legs (like a dog lowered its tail, Emma thought, submissively) her ass was on perfect display. With her jersey bunched up at her spine, showing off a little of her thong peeking from her shorts and a white band of skin at the small of her back. Emma licked her lips. It was… tempting.

 

"Thank you for telling me about your discussion with Emma," Regina said formally. "She has agreed to be disciplined for her misbehaving. But I'll have to punish you as well."

 

"Me? What'd I do?"

 

"Ruby, dearie…" Regina reached down and scratched her nails on Ruby's back. "No one likes a tattletale. To be fair, I'll only punish each of you as far as the other. So, Emma, how many strokes do you think Ruby should receive?"

 

Emma was a little speechless. Spanking Ruby sounded good, but then if she had to take the same punishment—would they laugh at her if she said just one? She didn't know how many she could even take, she hadn't been spanked since she was in grade school. But she didn't want to look weak either. So she should pick a nice high number…

 

"Do you want my opinion?" Regina asked, smiling cheerily. She'd sat down on the bed beside Ruby and was still scratching her back, a little comfortingly, a little possessively. The action pushed Ruby's jersey upward, exposing the pale skin that Regina was turning scarlet in long thin lines. "I am something of an expert."

 

"Yeah, what do you think is best?"

 

"Well… there's a check in the submissive column." Regina shared a droll look with Emma, like they were in on a private joke. "A dozen should do, I think. It is a first offense."

 

A dozen! It probably wouldn't be that bad—she could take a dozen slaps to the face. But what if this hurt worse? What if she took four 'strokes' and they hurt like hell and Emma still had eight to go? She'd say the safe word and they'd think she was just a foolish child, not even good enough to be a submissive.

 

"Too much for you?" Regina asked of the still-silent Emma. "How's five sound?"

 

"No," Emma said, forcing herself to sound brave. "Ten."

 

"Ten!" Regina repeated, impressed or mock-impressed. "You didn't let me go that far on our first date, Ruby."

 

"Impressive," Ruby agreed. Then, with a challenging look to Emma. "If she can get through it."

 

"We can worry about that later." Regina stood. "As her 'big sister', you'll go first?"

 

"Certainly," Ruby said with a smile.

 

"Alright then. Emma, punish her."

 

"Me?"

 

Ruby was wiggling her shorts down her long legs. Emma wouldn't have believed it, but she was wearing panties underneath, and they were actually thinner and skimpier than her shorts had been. Which made sense, of course, but with those pants, Emma would've thought the only thing she could've been wearing underneath would've been body paint.

 

"Right on her bare bottom," Regina said pleasantly, twining her finger in the elastic waistband of Ruby's panties. She gave them a little tug, exposing a bit of Ruby like she was the Coppertone baby all grown up. "As hard as you can hit, until I count to ten. She deserves it, after all. She feels so guilty over how she acted. But once she's had a good hard spanking, she'll feel as if she's paid for it. Her conscience will be clear."

 

"Go on, Emma." Ruby looked over her shoulder at Emma, who had gravitated to Regina's side like a meteor falling from the sky. "Punish me. Spank me. Hurt me. This guilty conscience won't let me sleep if I'm not punished. I'll just lie awake all night, next to Regina…"

 

Biting her lip at _that_ comment, Emma looked down at Ruby's ass, Regina presenting more and more of it to her every moment. She didn't want to hurt Ruby, not really, but it would feel good to teach her a lesson. And that ass—it was almost better than Regina's. The Mayor was plump and soft and voluptuous, just the right size, but Ruby was _tight._ Small and compact and perfect, in its own way. Just touching it would've been tempting enough—stroking it, rubbing it, caressing it—but Ruby would've enjoyed that. Hell, she would probably enjoy having Emma beat the hell out of her too, but at least Emma could try to enjoy it more.

 

"C'mon Emma," Ruby teased, waggling her hips. "Or would you like me across your lap?"

 

"You might be too heavy for me," Emma retorted, and Regina smirked handily. "Could you—pull her panties back up?"

 

With an eloquent shrug, Regina secured them back around Ruby's waist. It hardly did anything to conceal anything, but it made the whole thing feel a little less… intimate.

 

Ruby twisted at the waist to look back, a smart comment written all over her face, and Emma just couldn't stand to hear one more word from her. Flattening her hand, she swung with all her might, landing directly on Ruby's upturned ass, filling the room with the sound of an impact that caught Ruby off-guard. Her body seemed to jerk an entire foot, red blossoming where Emma's hand had landed. She didn't cry out, but her mouth dropped open with a stifled noise.

 

"Take it," Regina ordered, arms crossed, circling the bed. "Take it like the bitch that you are."

 

And, submissively, Ruby lowered her head to the mattress as if bowing to Regina, her ass floating up for Emma's inspection—the mark where she'd struck already fading. Once more, Ruby's ass was perfect, desirable, unmarred.

 

"That's one," Regina said for Emma, a note softer.

 

"Is she okay?" Emma asked her. Her hand was tingling. She could only imagine how Ruby felt.

 

" _Yes_ ," Ruby said in a halting, pained—not unaroused—voice. "More?" Like Regina had said. Submissive.

 

Emma went again, trying to pull her punches. Her hand whistled through the air, it landed on Ruby's skin with crisp thwacks, but the sound seemed subdued after that initial explosion of flesh and pain. Ruby whimpered with Regina standing over her like a doctor examining a patient's chart. The young woman bunched her hands in Regina's twill trousers, kissing the garment desperately. Emma thought it was in pain, but then Regina looked her in the eye. With that one look, Emma knew Ruby was suffering from unfulfillment. Emma had to help her.

 

Now Emma didn't stop her hand from leaping to Ruby's buttocks, flying to them. She let herself overdose on the smarting pain it left behind in her palm, the brief second of heated contact and meaty softness. Ruby was hers, a puppet on a string, only moving at all because of the force of Emma's assault—the way she shifted her weight, the way she braced herself as Emma's hand swooped down, the way her skin rippled at the touch of Emma's powerful hand… her powerful, hurting, satisfying hand.

 

Then Regina was behind her. Emma hadn't even noticed her moving, wraith-like, to observe Ruby's painstaking pleasure from every angle, finally dropping behind Emma like a shadow. Now she grabbed Emma's hand at the wrist and let it hover, stung, in the air, hungry for the instant of contact that would jab and satisfy them both.

 

"That's ten," Regina said, sweetly and deliberately. She pulled at Emma's arm slowly, but with incredible coiled force, making Emma share in the feeling going through Ruby. A feeling of encountering an overwhelming power and the satisfaction of yielding to it. Inevitably, Regina brought Emma's hand down to Ruby's ass. Her other hand stripped away Ruby's panties like there were petals being blown off a flower. Without them, Emma could see Ruby's skin was such a bright red that it could've been branded. They touched her together, at Regina's insistence, and felt how Ruby _burned_ like something pulled from a fire.

 

Regina's other hand flipped Ruby over. She moaned almost ingratiatingly, having her stinging bottom laying on the sheets. Her panties were down around her pubis, exposing a few wisps of pubic hair but not all of her. Regina brought Emma's hand to the thin, shockingly cool material. Emma obediently took hold of it. With Regina's help, she pulled it away.

 

Ruby cooed at the touch of air to her cunt, as overheated as the rest of her, and the disappearance of her panties, like ice being taken off a numb hand. She was all noise and pleasure now, a musical instrument Regina was teaching Emma how to play, her nerves pulled taut by the pain and now the strings that Regina could play beautiful crescendos on.

 

Their hands intertwined, Regina and Emma _felt_ Ruby.

 

She was warm, hot, boiling. Emma could barely feel her for the heat. She just let Regina set up a rhythm, show her what to touch and where. Everything was so slick and it seemed so easy to get something wrong, but as long as she followed Regina's lead, the splitting grin stayed on Ruby's face.

 

Ruby moaned. She whined. She cooed. She yelped. She cried. She sang. And finally, she screamed.

 

Emma took her hand away ahead of Regina's. It was dripping wet. Dripping with Ruby. She'd done that. She'd made Ruby hot, she'd made her submit, she'd made her come. It seemed like an even bigger accomplishment then being with Regina, because Regina was a goddess; all she'd had to do was follow her instructions and everything had happened perfectly. But Ruby, Ruby had responded to something inside Emma. Something that made her like Regina.

 

"Thank you," Ruby said in a daze, forgetting for once to sniff in disdain at Emma, to lord her closeness to Regina over her. Regina reached for her fondly with the hand that'd been inside her. "Thank—" Ruby started, and then licked at her own juices as Regina fed her fingers. Sucking herself off the webbing of Regina's hand, she seemed to pass out, her head dropping against the mattress like deadweight.

 

Regina casually wiped her hand off with Ruby's hair. Then she turned to Emma. "It's your turn now."


	20. Chapter 20

 

 

Emma was nervous. Of course she was nervous. She was about to feel pain. Not even pain like a doctor's shot or something, but pain for pleasure. Regina's pleasure. But of course, that was the important word there. Not 'pain'. 'Regina's pleasure'. And after everything Regina had done for her, didn't Emma owe her… well, everything?

 

So there she was, bent over the bed, undressed from the waist down, her ass upturned for Regina's artistic inspection. The Mayor so close that Emma could feel her breath between her cheeks like a light promise. She was scared, but somehow excited in her fear. It was like she was on a roller coaster. Climbing up, up, up.

 

"I'm going to use you," Regina said, as she dipped her head, her face just briefly touching Emma's flesh. Her nose, her lips, her cheek—Emma felt them where she was naked and couldn't believe the simple intimacy of that. Her heart was racing and she'd barely been touched. "Like a good hunter doesn't waste any meat from their kill. All this virgin flesh—all this unmarked skin—I'm going to take it and I'm going to make it feel things it's never felt before. Every inch. Every nerve. When I'm done, you'll be painted red."

 

"I've been spanked before," Emma said. She didn't know why.

 

"Not like this," Ruby snickered. She was watching from the other side of the bed, where Regina had ushered her. It helped a little, not having her rival see her nude.

 

"You bring up a good point, Ruby." Regina said it with a little kiss at Emma's tailbone. "How were you punished, back before you met me and became a good little girl?"

 

"I was—when my father was awake, he used to threaten me with his belt when I misbehaved. But he never used it."

 

"Mmmmm." Regina actually rested her chin on Emma's bottom. "I think I'll be your daddy now. Ruby, your belt?"

 

Ruby cocked her hips. Regina reached across the bed and hooked her fingers in Ruby's studded leather belt. Emma heard the buckle rattling as the belt worked its way through Ruby's pant loops. She looked up, as carefully as she could, to see Regina folding the belt up. She brought it down on her other hand with a hefty-sounding smack.

 

"Now Emma," Regina began, and Emma could barely think to listen with her smacking the belt in her palm. "Remember. The safe word is Snow White. You can cry out all you like, say 'stop' or 'no' or whatever you need to say, but unless you say Snow White, I'll keep going. Do you understand?"

 

"Yes."

 

"What makes me stop?"

 

"Snow White."

 

"What doesn't make me stop?"

 

"No. Stop. Don't."

 

Regina smiled. Emma had pleased her. Happy with how she'd satisfied her, Emma turned away, looking straight ahead. The belt stopped racking against Regina's hand.

 

"You have been naughty," Regina said, mock-disapprovingly when really, it was glowing praise. "And naughty girls get punished. It's the only way they learn."

 

Emma felt herself tense. She couldn't stop herself. Her body knew what was coming and was preparing for it. Her eyes closed. Her flesh trembled. She gave herself over to it, the feeling of being so small, so frail, and Regina towering over her. It was both a threat and a comfort.

 

Regina braced herself too. As Ruby looked on with an anticipatory smile, her body shimmying a little as she waited for the first hit to resonate through the air, Regina cocked her arm like a catapult. She took one last look at Emma's perfect ass, then let herself think of Snow White and all she'd done. Her rage and fury grew. Usually, she could push it down with memories of Emma, all the nasty little things she and the princess had gotten up to. This time, she gave it free rein. Without conscious thought, the leather belt sizzled through the air, coming down hard across both of Emma's ass cheeks.

 

Emma had never felt such pain in all her life. Her mouth twisted open, letting out an anguished cry. Then Regina let loose with another blow, the landing criss-crossing the welt the first one had raised. Emma's mouth was virtually pushed open by the howl she let out. She automatically tried to scramble to her feet, but Ruby fell on her, shoving her down hard on the bed and holding her in place.

 

Regina paused, the belt dangling, flickering at her side like a scorpion's tail.

 

Emma sucked in air to replace the oxygen she'd screamed out, tears running down her cheeks.

 

After a moment, she realized that Ruby was petting her hair. Just a little soothingly.

 

"Shall we continue?" Regina asked.

 

"Yes." Emma looked back with her dewy eyes, the steel just showing through the tears. "I was bad. I was a bad little girl. Make me a good girl, Regina. Please."

 

Regina felt her pulse quicken. Even Ruby hadn't taken to the lash so quickly. She spoke through a dry mouth. "Eight to go, Emma. I'm going to get that ass nice and hot. We'll have so much fun once you're good and hot…"

 

Without warning, Emma felt another sharp crack of the leather across her ass. Twice, backward and forward, in rapid succession. The belt set her tender skin on fire. Emma gritted her teeth, letting out only a long groan of pain. Now the skin from the swell of her buttocks all the way up to her waist was graffitied with red. Regina looked longingly over the marked flesh—down to Emma's cunt, clenched and wet. It would feel the belt last.

 

"Get her on the back of the thighs, mistress," Ruby suggested with a giggle. "She'd look so nice with red all over."

 

As she said it, she stood back up and circled the bed to Regina. Now Emma had no one but herself to help her take the beating.

 

She braced herself for the sound of the leather whistling through the air, almost worse than the impact itself, but it didn't come. Instead, she felt the feather-light touch of Regina's finger alit down the crack of her ass, where the belt had barely touched. The insistent pleasure of Regina's touch coupled delicately with the surrounding pain. She had never felt anything like what was now flowing through her.

 

"Regina…" she said softly, almost questioningly. "Mistress…"

 

Then Regina's finger was between her legs. It lost itself in the damp softness of her sex. Emma bit her lip. "Oh, stop, oh, _oh!_ "

 

She didn't know why she said it. This definitely felt a lot better than the whipping. And she knew, even saying it, that she didn't mean it. The words 'Snow White' echoed through her brain, but she pushed them away. As if in concert, Regina's other hand clenched in her hair and pulled her upright, spinning her around, the pain in her scalp bouncing off the ecstasy in her cunt. She nearly came.

 

Regina saw the lightheaded look on her face and kissed her hotly. Emma felt almost everything fall away, except for a muted throb along the curve of her ass. Compared to this, Regina had treated her like a porcelain doll up till then. Always kissing her like she was afraid the girl would break.

 

Regina broke the kiss as reluctantly as Emma would've. "There'll be more of that when we're finished," she said, and lovingly licked Emma from her chin to the tip of her nose. Emma shuddered, imagining that tongue elsewhere. "But first, let's see how badly you want it. Do you know how we'll find out?"

 

"How?" Emma barely whispered.

 

Regina threw Emma back down on the bed. "You're going to tell me. Do you want it, Emma? Do you want it badly?"

 

"So much. So badly."

 

"How badly?" Regina teased, and Emma could just picture the wicked smile on her face. She was so wet, she could imagine her pussy filling to the brim. "Bad enough for another six lashes?"

 

Emma nodded frantically.

 

"Answer me!" Regina demanded.

 

"Yes!"

 

Emma heard a whistle and felt a sharp slap. It didn't hurt so much, now that she was used to it. Now, the stinging sensation spread, biting down on her cunt like a fiery kiss. She barely noticed the pleasure amongst the pain, just that her sex was throbbing wildly, almost arousingly.

 

"Bad enough for another five lashes?" Regina asked smugly. She already knew the answer.

 

Emma nodded again. It was like speech was eluding her, like the belt was bringing her down to a wordlessly primitive level. "It almost feels… good," she said, when she got her mouth open.

 

Barely understanding where she was or what was happening to her, Emma pushed her tender ass out for more punishment. The belt flew. Emma hissed, and mewled, but loved it.

 

"I can't believe it," she whimpered, almost to herself. "It hurts so much—so much…" And yet…

 

"Another four lashes?" Regina asked, like she was taking a survey, like Ruby wasn't hanging off her, welding herself to the Mayor in all her power and control.

 

"I want you to fuck me," Emma sobbed, burying her face in the bedspread, the old Disney princess sheets of her youth that seemed deeply sexual now. "Please fuck me…"

 

With her free hand, Regina had Ruby by the hair like a leash. She beckoned her downward, never taking her eyes off Emma. "Then let me hear you beg for it."

 

"I am begging!"

 

"Not for me." Regina forced Ruby's mouth to her crotch. But if Ruby didn't want it, she wouldn't have pushed up Regina's skirt. "For the belt."

 

Emma hissed in breath. "I want the belt. Give it to me. Please."

 

She convulsed as Regina cracked the belt feverishly. "Three more, Emma. Just three more."

 

Emma seemed to moan and pant at the same time, not sure if she was feeling pain or pleasure. Her taut body squirmed under the assault of two more sharp blows. The horrible liveliness of the welts raised on her ass had spread all over her body. She could feel everything, pulled tight, wickedly alive with sensation, her clit especially tingling with need.

 

"Whip me harder!" Emma begged quakingly, like the words were being shook out of her vibrating body. Her cunt spasmed along with the rest of her and she ground it into the bed. "Make me come! Harder! Make me come!

 

"One more lash?" Regina asked, her voice heavier, either from Ruby's ministrations or the sight of Emma splaying herself willingly across the mattress.

 

"Yes! Please! _Please!_ "

 

"One more lash from who?"

 

"From you, from my mistress, from my queen, Regina—"

 

Her breathing almost as harsh as her young victim's, Regina brought the whip down. Not on Emma's ass. On her pussy.

 

For just a moment, Emma knew it was coming. She felt the air part before it, like a little pleasing breeze. Then it hit, and it was horrible and wonderful and a snake biting her and a cock penetrating her and every muscle in her body was tensed and everything hurt and everything felt good and she was coming, her fingers digging into the bedspread like claws and rending them, ripping apart the princesses. She didn't hear any of it, not even her own scream, as she was consumed by the purest orgasm of her young life.

 

Afterward—a long time afterward—she lay still, knowing what she was expected to say. "Thank you, mistress. Thank you for whipping me. Thank you… thank you…"

 

"You're very welcome," Regina said sweetly, her panties back up and her skirt back down, but Ruby still kneeling before her. She patted the girl on the head, Emma on her rump. They'd done well. Both of them. Her orgasm had been nothing short of cathartic. "And now, my dear, it's time for bed."


	21. Chapter 21

Regina rolled Emma over, the girl moaning as her reddened ass hit the bedspread. Regina didn't let her suffer long. She picked her up, one arm under her knees and the other beneath her shoulder blades, then lifted her up like she weighted nothing. Emma cooed as the pain subsided. She seemed to be all sensation, every little feeling heightened and pure.

 

"Wrap your arms around my neck," Regina said. Emma did. Regina carried her around the room with gentle, stately steps, as if parading her around for an invisible audience, or a groom carrying his bride across the threshold. Ruby got up and drew the sheets back on the bed, fluffed the pillows.

 

"Are you tired?" Regina asked, her voice even more sugary than before.

 

"A little." Emma didn't feel… _sleepy._ It was more like she was wrung out, permanently out of breath. Maybe sleep would help, but she also felt like she was on a caffeine high. Like if Regina wanted her to, she could just nestle between her legs and drink forever.

 

"Quite an ordeal, wasn't it?" Regina walked them in a circle, rocking Emma in her arms with all the care she'd show a newborn baby. "A trial by fire. But I knew you could do it, Emma, and you've impressed me very much. I think you're ready for a great many things."

 

"I want to. I want to do everything with you."

 

"You will, my sweet. You will. You'll be as good as gold and naughty as a whore and I'll take care of you. I'll take such good care of you, my Emma, my little kept girl. Because you're mine and mine alone."

 

Emma tried not to yawn, but she was so tired and being carried by Regina was relaxing her so much. Thankfully, Regina wasn't offended. She laughed softly and lowered Emma to the bed.

 

"Don't leave me," Emma pleaded. She wanted more. Not more sex or more touching, more Regina.

 

"I won't, baby. I'm going to stay right here with you." Regina held onto Emma's right hand as she circled the bed. She petted its knuckles. "You've had a very intense experience. It's time to sleep on it. But I know how… frenzied… events have left you. So I'm going to help you calm down. I'm going to get you nice and relaxed."

 

Regina passed Emma's hand to Ruby, who continued petting it. As much as Emma would've liked to protest, it felt _nice,_ that insinuating hand running up and down her arm.

 

Regina started by, for the first time, undressing. Her slender fingers undid each of the buttons on her vest in turn, and Emma felt a pulse of excitement, seeing them in action. She remembered them inside her, between her lips, the taste they'd carried…

 

Regina was right. She'd never get to sleep on her own. She needed Regina to tuck her in.

 

Emma's brow furrowed— _weird way to put it much, Swan?_ —but she forgot it as Regina teased her vest open and spoke softly, like she was reading a bedtime story. "You'll never get to sleep in the state you're in. And you need sleep, Emma. So you must relax. Breathe deeply and relax. Breathe… and relax…"

 

As if Regina had the voice of a hypnotist, Emma felt herself comply. Her whole body was in tune with Regina. Her racing heart slowed, her hot blood cooled… her flesh itself was obedient to Regina. She laid on her side, staring up at Regina as the woman handed her vest off to Ruby. Regina gave her a loving look, bent over her to brush some hair from her eyes and toy with it.

 

"Now, is everything alright, my dear?"

 

"You promised we'd…" Emma had been thinking the word 'fuck', but it wouldn't come. Her voice sounded years younger, babyish even, but she couldn't quite bring herself to care. This new, subservient voice seemed to suit her. "You promised after I had my punishment, you'd make me feel good."

 

Regina's voice was rich with amusement. "Don't you feel good now?"

 

"I could feel better."

 

"Mmm. Would you like it if I slept with you? That way, once you've had a good night's sleep, I can attend you." She ran her finger over Emma's cheek, making no secret of what answer she desired. "First thing in the morning."

 

"Yes, mistress."

 

"You don't have to call me mistress when you're not being punished. Something else could convey the appropriate respect. Mother, perhaps."

 

Emma's heavy eyes widened a little, trying to see if Regina was joking or not. All she saw was the Mayor unbuttoning her blouse. Emma would've thought she'd feel lust, seeing her skin slowly come into view, but instead she felt a kind of—warmth. More skin for her to touch, more skin to be against her as she slept. It seemed more comforting than anything else.

 

"I've heard the most intriguing study," Regina said, her voice a little deeper, a little less sweet. More her mayoral voice. Emma thought about it—two sides of Regina, the mistress that punished her and the lover that took care of her. That made sense, right? "It says that you put a baby to sleep, the best thing to do is to let her nurse. Even if the baby isn't hungry, the act of suckling relaxes her to the point of unconsciousness. Like a narcotic, almost." She undid the last button and opened her blouse. Underneath, her bra was black and very, _very_ flattering. Emma felt a twinge of desire, even through her stupor. She envied Ruby as the waitress took Regina's blouse off her shoulders. "The fascinating thing is, this muscle memory never really diminishes. You see it in children who suck their thumbs. The act calms them, soothes them. It even persists into adulthood."

 

Ruby took off Regina's bra for her. Her breasts, Emma thought. God, her breasts…

 

"I'm going to get into bed with you, Emma. And I want you to suckle upon me."

 

"We've done that before," Emma said dreamily. "It didn't exactly relax me."

 

"You were doing that to excite me. _This_ is all about you." Regina stepped out of her heels. She made no move to take off her skirt or stockings. The fact that she wore those, but was bare above the waist, sent a surge of lust through Emma. When she closed her eyes, she pictured herself putting Regina into bed and diving under that skirt. But she couldn't seem to move…

 

True to her word, Regina got into bed beside Emma. The center of the bed, with Emma on her right. She ran her fingers over Emma and the girl felt a warmth that drenched her body, like her nerves were spigots slowly being closed off. Her body going gently numb. "Open your mouth, Emma. Can you open your mouth for me?"

 

Emma's eyes were closed (they seemed so heavy just then), but she felt Regina's fingers at her lips. She opened them obediently, then felt Regina's hands on her head. She was rolled over onto Regina, her right arm landing across Regina's waist and her mouth being guided to Regina's right breast. She sucked on it gratefully, almost slobbering on it, before forcing her eyes open.

 

She was lying on Regina, the older woman's hands behind her back and on her outstretched right arm, stroking both with light animal movements. Her head was on Regina's breast, soft and perfect, and Regina's nipple was irritating her chin. There was only one thing to do, and Regina suggested it as her fingers lightly petted the welts she'd left on Emma's ass. "Suck me, Emma." Her voice filled Emma's head like water. "It's alright. It's okay, dear. Suck on me."

 

Emma opened her mouth and seemed to inhale Regina, not just her nipple but her areole, all she could until her mouth was full. The peak of Regina's breast was perfectly hard, turgid and inviting in Emma's mouth. Regina gasped softly and Emma realized she'd pleased her, she felt proud that she'd pleased her, but most of all she felt soothed. It seemed all her life she'd needed something in her mouth, gum, a lollipop, the end of a pencil, a stolen cigarette… this was what she'd been looking for all along. Not just a nipple—Regina.

 

"Good girl. Good, good girl," Regina praised her, voice full of the same pride. "See how good punishment makes us? See what lessons we learn from being naughty?"

 

Emma didn't, not really. All she knew was that Regina fit to her mouth, she belonged there. She wondered if straight people felt this way, having a penis inside them. She wondered if she'd feel this way (only moreso) having Regina inside her, because surely Regina could find a simple dildo that was this right. This perfect.

 

She felt the bed squeak under her and it piqued her. She wasn't moving. Regina wasn't moving. What was bothering her? She opened her eyes (they'd closed again, she didn't remember that, Regina's body seemed so much more vivid than sight) to see Ruby on the other side of Regina, lying there like a mirror image of herself.

 

"What's she doing here?" Emma tried to say through Regina's nipple, but she didn't even get a syllable out before Regina had stroked that sensitive area she'd found in their massage, reducing Emma to just an awareness of Regina and a theory that something was wrong. She sucked on Regina as her mistress spoke.

 

"You don't mind if Ruby joins us, do you? In your bed? It's such a nice bed and the poor dear was so worked up, being punished and seeing you punished. She needs her sleep. She needs…"

 

Then Regina just closed her eyes and moaned as Ruby went to her other breast, closing her lips on her right nipple and sucking accustomedly, her throat working and her eyes shut.

 

The nipple slipped from Emma's mouth. She wanted to protest, wanted, vaguely, to surge up and kiss Regina, own her somehow, but her mind was sluggish and overwarm. She just laid there, moaning as she watched Ruby suckle at Regina like she was trying to gag on her. She felt Regina's hands in her hair, stroking, soothing, and it occurred to her how pretty it was, Ruby at Regina's breast. She watched languidly, enviously, as Regina's right hand spooled out of her own golden hair and went to Ruby's. It twisted and twirled over Ruby's scalp, encouraging her as she nursed with growing contentment. And, more than that, it slid down her spine.

 

Ruby made happy little noises as it went lower—"Mmmm"—"MMMM!"—until it was at the apex of her panties. Regina teasingly flicked her finger over the unmarked skin at the small of Ruby's back. Then she grasped Ruby's panties and fairly ripped them off. Ruby jerked and bit down and Regina cooed pleasedly. She put her hand on the faded marks that covered Ruby's backside and rubbed them with an artist's grace, like she was wiping down a sculpture, polishing a statue. Ruby moaned around her nipple, arcing her back, her body going crazy in the confines of Regina's touch and Regina's breast. She had to stay between them, but her spine was being pulled tauter and tauter.

 

"Would you like to come, Ruby?" Regina asked pleasantly. Ruby knew better than to abandon Regina's nipple to answer. She nodded her head, still biting down, looking like a dog worrying at a chew toy. Regina smiled. "Ask nicely."

 

Ruby forced herself to come up for air, still kissing Regina's breast repeatedly before answering. "Please, mommy, can I come?" Then she buried herself in Regina again.

 

Emma had been watching all this with a voyeur's eye. She found herself working at her own target harder and harder, her tongue lashing around the engorged bud in her mouth, her hair flowing as she ran her own hands through it, unconsciously trying to recreate the wildly passionate feel of Regina's sly fingers.

 

Regina let them both suckle at her for a moment, her head drifting back, her mouth stretching into a smile. She could've spent hours like that, her two sweet girls being so good to her, but she'd promised Ruby. "Touch her," Regina told Emma. Her voice was calm and quiet. "Touch her down there and then it will be your turn."

 

And without thinking, Emma reached out and felt the heat of Ruby's slit.

 

It only took a few seconds, then Ruby jerked her head back with one enormous exhale and went limp. She laid against Regina's breast, kissing it as if in her sleep. As if in sympathy, Emma did to, kissing the warm pillow of flesh she'd been lying on. Soon, her mouth was slack. Soon, it was open, and Regina's nipple was inside.

 

It tasted so good—like someone had put just a dab of honey on Regina's skin and rubbed it deep in. The Mayor was stroking her hair again, both hands free now that Ruby was settled—the waitress with both arms around Regina, splayed atop her like two combatants collapsed at the end of a long wrestling match. Regina's hands looped and tangled, trapping Emma's hair as if fearful that Emma would take her mouth away. Something Emma had no intention of doing.

 

She could've spent days like that—Regina seemed to taste sweeter and sweeter the more Emma dined on her—but it must've been only minutes before she felt a tender touch at the base of her spine.

 

"Is that alright?" Regina asked, knowing the answer.

 

"Mmm-hmmm." Through Regina's breast, Emma could only manage vowels.

 

Fingers cascaded down Emma's lower back. They went slowly and teasingly, with such long gaps between touches that Emma almost chalked them up to her imagination. She moaned at the furtive little brushes, urging them on almost subconsciously. They gave her just enough time to relax before exciting her, keeping her perched on the edge of consciousness, not quite awake and not quite asleep. Dreaming.

 

She was so relaxed, and the night air was so exciting on her body, and Regina's touch was so good. Everything felt so different that it was barely like being in her body at all. Like she had floated away from her body, leaving it with Regina.

 

"It's almost like you want to be touched there," Regina whispered, a conspirator. "Do you?"

 

The word seemed incredibly small as it slipped from Emma. "Yes."

 

A hand cupped Emma's ass—the touch startlingly intimate, casual. It possessed her, squeezed hard enough to revel in Emma's domination. The pressure opened up the valley of Emma's ass, exposing it to delighting eyes. The forbidden darkness of her anus, and just below, the golden fluff concealing her sweet pink cleft.

 

Emma sighed and actually lifted her ass up in the air, trying to meet the caress. Regina forced it back down, wrapping her legs around Emma's to hold her in place as she took one hand away from Emma's hair. To reach into her purse. To pull out a small green bottle.

 

"I think it's time we finish our massage."

 

Regina turned the bottle upside down, anointing Emma's ass with the viscous oil until it was shimmering. Emma moaned at the feel of it, so much cooler than she remembered, but heating up as Regina rubbed it into her skin. Her legs pedaled aimlessly, the muscles contracting involuntarily. That felt good too, her pussy lips rubbing together between her legs. Regina smiled knowingly. Both the girl's holes were getting a workout.

 

Both hands were on Emma now, and they switched, the left going to Emma's right cheek and the right going to the left, lightly dipping into Emma's valley every time they crossed. Emma's breathing hit a fever pitch with every crossing. Her body relaxed with the massage and tensed with the feel of Regina's hands dipping down, applying just enough pressure to open her up, the air seeming to caress her asshole along with Regina. Only Regina never actually touched her there. Her hands just circled around and around and around, delicately ascending and descending, then actually brushing against her little ring, rimming her, the oil running down inside her. It was maddeningly pleasurable.

 

"Do you like me, Emma?" Regina asked, her voice almost pouty.

 

"Yes," Emma said with her mouth still full.

 

"How much?" Regina asked, her forefinger cresting Emma's hole.

 

Emma had to take her mouth away to answer. She had to do it anyway; she was afraid she'd bite down too hard and hurt Regina, in her excitement, in her pleasure. "So much!" Emma whimpered.

 

"Will you show me how much you like me?" Regina withdrew her finger a little ways, leaving Emma's itch unattended.

 

"Yes!" Emma pleaded, resting her head against Regina, the engorged and saliva-warm nipple needling her cheek seemingly the only thing keeping her awake. It kept what was happening to her in reality instead of slipping into a wonderful dream.

 

"How?"

 

"However… you want me to…" Between the pleasure and the sleep overtaking her, Emma couldn't open her eyes. She just said what she thought Regina wanted to hear.

 

"I want you to tell me if you like  _this."_ And Emma felt a finger dip just inside her ass, just covering it.

 

"I dooooo—"

 

"Because if you like it, I'm going to keep doing it. Among other things."

 

"Yes…"

 

"I'm going to fuck your little ass," Regina said, unable to resist the jibe as she dug her fingers into Emma's flesh as hard as she could, her slender forefinger popping into Emma's asshole as if by accident. The girl let out a fierce groan, knowing now what it was to be entered, to be filled. The finger was almost too much, but just shy of enough. It teased her. Goaded her. Regina left it inside as she kneaded Emma's ass like it was two balls of bread dough.

 

"Fuck," Emma said, nearly asleep and about to come. She was so aroused, so goddamn  _horny,_ and yet there was a serenity to it, a safety. Regina had her. She was Regina's. Nothing to worry about. She could go to sleep if she wanted. And she was tired. Very tired… "Fuck…"

 

Regina slowly lessened her efforts, her finger maddeningly just inside Emma, her massage becoming effusively lesser until it was just a teasing brush. Emma rubbed her legs together harder and faster, but she has no energy left. Eventually, they slowed to a top. Emma, drained, laid atop Regina with a gentle finger in her ass, tirelessly rubbing at her most sensitive places.

 

"Fuck me," Emma mewled. "Fuck me."

 

"In time, my sweet." Regina enjoyed torturing Emma with a little circle of her tiny, tiny finger. The girl moaned almost painfully. It was delicious. "You must sleep now. You need your rest."

 

"Need to come," Emma begged once more, the words barely more than mouthed. "Come so bad…"

 

"You heard the lady," Regina said, and Emma found the finger—oh, the finger! It was _there_ , right where she wanted it! She jerked her hips impatiently and it went _in_ , perfectly. She was so full, full of Regina, her breast and her finger and her life, pressing into Emma's, pushing out the boredom and the routine and the expected, replacing it with adventure, pleasure, the taboo.

 

"Thank you, Regina!" Her eyes were tightly shut, her voice barely a whisper. "Thank you so much—"

 

"Don't thank me." Regina's voice was darkly amused. "Thank Ruby. She's the one with her finger in your ass."

 

Emma was only just able to lift her head, to look back over her shoulder. Of the two hands on her ass, one belonged to Regina and it was spread on Emma's smooth cheek, the fingers curving deep into the crease, holding it open for Ruby. The second hand. For Ruby's finger to press inside Emma, gradually gaining entrance, going deeper and deeper with repetitive little pushes and withdrawals.

 

Emma looked up. Saw Ruby, still suckling at Regina, her gaze sleepy-eyed and clear. She winked at Emma, like they were under the same spell.

 

And Emma joined her in sharing Regina. Somehow, in her fugue state where guilt or shame couldn't find her, it felt better that it wasn't just Regina fucking her, it was Ruby. The two of them had filled her up. She jerked between them, hips rocking with Ruby's fingers (two now), and Regina's thigh between her legs, making her even fuller. And of course, Regina's nipple in her mouth, the sweet taste seeming to keep her grounded somehow.

 

Time was an illusion. She kept sucking. She kept rocking. And eventually, she heard the song Regina was singing.

 

"Lullaby and good night, in the sky stars are bright. Round your head, flowers gay, bring you slumbers today. Go to sleep now and rest. May these hours be blessed."

 

When she'd finished her song, Regina thought she heard a muffled cry out of Emma, but her breast in the girl's mouth was as good as any gag. But a few seconds after that, she felt Emma's cunt spasm against her thigh. Then the girl went limp, the steady refrain of her lips fastened on Regina's nipple the only evidence she was still breathing.

 

Humming with satisfaction, Regina craned her neck to kiss both of her girls on the head. They were fast asleep, the darlings. Dreaming of her.

 

"The next time I see you, we are going to fuck," she whispered sweetly in Emma's ear, and could've sworn the girl smiled in her sleep.

 

***

 

"Emma? Ruby?" Mary-Margaret flipped on the light and set down the orientation packet the bookstore had given her. The interview had run staggeringly long, the manager wanting to hire her on the spot and put her through training as well. She'd called Emma to tell her not to wait up, but the machine had gotten it. She wasn't worried. Just a little concerned.

 

Her daughter was nowhere in the apartment. Mary-Margaret went to her bedroom. It was only ten-thirty, and Emma was a certified night owl. It would be real unusual for her to be asleep already.

 

The door was closed—also unusual. The air conditioning wasn't what it could be and Emma liked to keep her door open so a cool flow of air ran through the room. Mary-Margaret thought of knocking, but she wouldn't want to wake Emma if she was resting. Just a quick peep inside to check in on her.

 

Moving as quietly as she could, Mary-Margaret settled her hand on the knob and turned it slowly. It twisted without a sound and she eased the door open, poking her head inside. Emma was in bed, the covers pulled up nearly over her head—but who was that with her?

 

"Emma asked me to ask you if it was alright for Ruby to have a sleepover."

 

Mary-Margaret twisted around like a cat in mid-air, startled into a caricaturist facial expression. Behind her, Regina only smiled slightly at her look.

 

"Sorry to startle you. I was powdering my nose."

 

"Oh. Well, of course it's alright for Ruby to stay over. But she's not worried about catching what Emma has?"

 

"No," Regina said. "Emma's feeling a lot better. Like you said; I just had to get her to take her medicine."

 

"Good." Mary-Margaret turned back to the cracked door, looking through once more at Emma sleeping peacefully. "Thanks again for keeping an eye on her."

 

"It was my pleasure." Regina joined her in looking through the door at Emma and Ruby. "The little angels. Seeing them like this, I wish I had two of my own."

 


	22. Chapter 22

With Mary-Margaret's new job at the bookstore, Emma had most of the day to herself. Or, more accurately, to Regina. The only problem was that her mother had recruited Granny Eugenia to make sure she got better.

 

"What if it's cancer, Emma? What then?"

 

For three days she had to put up with beet soup, cough syrup, and no Regina. She got so bored she actually wrote a love letter to Regina, but buried it under her mattress when found herself Googling for what jewels Regina's eyes looked like. Finally, Mary-Margaret took her temperature every way short of rectally and declared her fit as a fiddle.

 

In the morning. After which, Emma had to go to school. All she could think about was Regina. Three days without her was far too long. Worse, Ruby delivered lunch to the teacher's lounge, so Emma had to see her and _know_ that she'd been with Regina. The Mayor hadn't even been suffering alongside her. She'd had wonderful, pretty, perfect little Ruby.

 

The only bright spot came when she went to her locker to get her phone between periods, it being banned in class by their Puritan overlords. There was a letter right on her chem. textbook. Though it was unsigned, she recognized Regina's looping handwriting immediately. _I don't suppose you can skip fourth period French?_

She could and she would. Tucking the scented letter into her rucksack, she ran out to the parking lot—abandoned at that time of day. Regina was sitting on the hood of Emma's car, somewhere between artfully poised mayor and drop-dead gorgeous pin-up. Emma felt like howling at the moon. She forced herself to knot her hands behind her back before they could pry Regina's thighs open.

 

"Hey," she said, already blushing.

 

Regina smiled at her accommodatingly. "I want to get you out of those clothes."

 

"Okay!"

 

"There's a new boutique at the mall. I would really like to buy you some things there."

 

Her disappointment must've shown in her face, because Regina laughed a little. She sauntered up to Emma. "I promise to take off everything I put on you." She pinched the leather of Emma's vintage red jacket between her fingers. "It's just that when I do it with your new wardrobe, I won't feel the need to wash my hands."

 

"You don't like my jacket?" Emma asked challengingly.

 

"It's dirty. I can enjoy dirty." Ramping up her aggression, Regina hooked a hand on Emma's belt buckle and pulled her close. Emma could feel the school at her back, just a hundred yards away, with anyone able to see. "But I want to be the one to get you dirty, after I _lick you clean."_

Emma dug her fingernails into her palms and seriously considered the logistics of fucking the Mayor in the backseat of a car in the parking lot of a public high school.

 

Regina broke away before she could properly mastermind a way around all those annoying people who didn't approve of sex in public, her hand on Emma's belt giving her a little tug before letting go. Emma threw herself into the car and got the door for Regina from the inside.

 

Regina's skirt left her legs long and stocking-clad, and they coiled around her seat for the entire trip. Emma felt a low, heated anticipation running through her thighs. This wasn't the physically painful wait she'd felt when she was "out sick." This felt like Christmas morning and a countdown to her honeymoon, all at once. She almost didn't want Regina to actually go through with it.

 

_The next time I see you, we are going to fuck._ Regina had whispered it in her ear the last time they'd met. She knew what it meant, what she had come to desperately want. She wanted to be a woman, not a girl. An equal, not a virgin. And she wanted Regina to be the one to change her, as much as she feared going through with it. The two things, Regina and her deflowering, were intractably intertwined. She loved Regina, loved everything about her, but the act she was going to perform hit some snag in Emma's consciousness. She felt sure something would change, she just didn't know what, or if it would be a positive or negative.

 

The mall wasn't even a proper shopping mall. It was just what they called the street where most of the real 'high-end' stores were. The nickname was slightly less off-base than 'The Shopping District,' so it stuck. Emma crawled her car through the sparse foot traffic, since even Sheriff Graham didn't try to deter jay-walking there, and finally parked on Regina's instructions next to the sidewalk. There was a little store she'd never seen before—last week, she remembered, it'd been one of the few boarded-up stores in Storybrooke. Now it had a name in French that Emma couldn't hope to pronounce and mannequins packing the display window, acting out a turn-of-the-century tea party in modern fashions. It made Emma think she was studying The Great Gatsby all over again.

 

"Inside," Regina commanded in her velvet voice, her hand thrillingly directing Emma with a touch at the small of her back. Emma had to fight _hard_ not to charge the entrance. She felt like a football player who'd seen an opening, but had orders not to hit the endzone under any circumstances.

 

Inside, the French store had gentle harp music playing on the PA, an attractive potpourri of scents, and a middle-aged woman at the register who smiled familiarly at them, like she was welcoming old friends to a party. Other than her, the store was deserted. Emma could see why. Deeper in and safe from prying eyes, there was a mannequin in Italian lingerie that Storybrooke wouldn't be ready for in twenty years.

 

"Hello April," Regina called, in a voice that was a little less pleasant than her public tones. It was deeper and, Emma had to admit, sexier. She'd been using it more often since they'd started their relationship. "This is the girl I was telling you about."

 

"Ahhh," April said with a pleased air. She was cute, but not attractive enough for Emma to think of her as competition. And, Emma confessed to herself, Regina's lovers tended to have a hungry puppy dog look when they saw Regina. Emma had tried to hide it in herself, but it showed up from time to time. Especially when she hadn't been able to so much as tweak her own nipple for three days without Eugenia Lucas asking if she needed some Vaporub. "Yes. Won't she look wonderful?"

 

"She will," Regina said, and steered Emma toward the back of the store with another bracing touch. The music was louder back in the changing room, utterly cutting off the sounds of the outside world, and a number of ensembles had already been laid out for her. Emma was a little disappointed to see that they were dresses, jeans, and blouses—avant-garde, but not anything she'd wear in the pornographic fantasy that had flashed between her eyes, seeing that lingerie.

 

But it was private. Regina drew a curtain between the changing room and the rest of the store. Before it shut, Emma could see April was locking the door.

 

"April is very respectful of certain clients' privacy," Regina explained, taking a seat in the boyfriend chair. It was set up like a throne opposite the actual changing booths, and Emma imagined coming out of one in just her underwear, if that, and giving Regina a little dance. She shook it off. She'd decided that if Regina wasn't offering, she was playing it cool until it was… offered. Otherwise, she'd come off like some kind of hormonal, sex-crazed teenager instead of a hormonal, sex-crazed young woman.

 

But the fact was, Emma wanted it offered, fast. She looked over the stacks of clothing, the hanging dresses. They were sleek, elegant—boring. Then she saw a nice little pair of jeans and a halter top. They were completely, fashionably ordinary, except that the jeans were a size too small. Which made them just perfect.

 

"I'll try these on," she said with an innocent look to Regina.

 

Regina crossed her legs patiently.

 

The changing stall was a lot nicer than the ones at JC Penney's. Instead of those three-way mirrors that always made you look like a pedophile, there was a room the size of a walk-in closet, with a panel mirror on each of the three walls. The partition behind her had a number of slots for hanging clothes, but Emma ignored them. She kicked off her shoes, then took off her shirt and let it hit the ground. She tried to imagine Regina on the other side of the partition. Was she picturing Emma half-naked, the same way Emma was picturing her getting wet?

 

Her pants were next. Emma had been wearing shorts that came down to her lower thighs, and admittedly, had some holes in them. The jeans were technically more conservative, at least until Emma put them on. She stared over her shoulder. Her ass was cupped by the denim, the tightness of the jeans cutting into her asscrack and holding her booty firmly. A little uncomfortable, but that was the price you paid for fashion.

 

With nothing above the waist but a white bra, Emma leaned against the partition, ready for her debut. "Regina, I think these jeans are too tight?"

 

"Nonsense, I gave April your exact measurements."

 

"I don't know…" Emma had to clap her hand over her mouth to shake a hysterical giggle. She really had to get better at seducing people. "They're _really_ tight."

 

There was a pause. Emma prayed to God Regina hadn't just became really embroiled in Words With Friends.

 

"Let me see."

 

Emma pushed the partition open slowly, pretending she was wearing a winter jacket instead of her bra. Bare-footed, she stepped out in front of Regina. "They're not really wrinkled," she said, putting her hand by her knee and then running it up her thigh to demonstrate. "Which looks nice. And they're not very tight here…" Her hand ran over her crotch. Regina's eyes followed it. She had her poker face on. Emma expected her to burst out laughing any moment. "But…" Emma half-turned. She shoved her ass out a little bit. Her hand ran over the denim that clung to her like paint. "This seems just a little much. What do you think?"

 

Regina smiled. The tiny, wicked one that Emma thought was just for her, not even for Ruby. She stood up with more swagger than a rap star, and the way she held herself told Emma she was going to get fucked.

 

"I think I'm a bad influence on you."

 

Emma turned around all the way, letting Regina see every inch of her back. She watched the mirror in front of her as it captured Regina, stalking closer like a wolf that'd hunted a doe, wounded it, chased it down, and now approached it as it laid bleeding in the dirt, ready for the kill. Which you wouldn't think would turn Emma on, but, she was weird.

 

Regina got close enough for Emma to see her in the mirrors to either side, all three Reginas stopping behind her. Emma's own body hid Regina's hands as they traveled the thin denim. The very, very thin denim.

 

"So are they?" Emma asked weakly.

 

"Are they what?" Regina husked, her eyes briefly flitting up from Emma's ass to the mirror, to catch the reflection of Emma's eyes and see the same arousal there.

 

"Too tight?"

 

"Yes. Far too tight. Look." Regina's hand circled Emma's stomach, touched the pale indentations left by the waistband of her last pants, and slid into her lap. "I can barely get my hand in."

 

"Jesus." Emma closed her eyes.

 

Regina's hand abruptly stopped. It had been just closing in on Emma's panties. "Open your eyes. Look in the mirror. I want you to see what I see. I want you to see how you look when I'm fucking you."

 

After hearing that, it was no wonder Emma came within a minute of Regina's first firm touch on her mound.

 

"Motherfucker!" she breathed, slumping onto the little bench at the far end of the stall. Regina stood over her, teasingly biting her nails.

 

"I have something else I'd like to try on," Regina said.

 

"I'm already buying the jeans," Emma said. "Now that they're stained."

 

"And who's fault is that, my little water-gun?"

 

"Three days, Regina. That's what three days without you does to me." Emma stared at Regina like she could will all the good things in the world to happen to her.

 

Regina patted her on the cheek. "Wait here. Deep breaths. Try not to pass out."

 

Emma rested her head against the cool mirror glass behind her. "No promises."

 

Emma watched Regina walk out of the stall. Watched her go to her purse on the boyfriend seat. Then watched her undress. Unzip her skirt and run it over the abundant curve of her panty-clad ass and down her garters and stockings. Uncoil her blazer from around a tight blouse, and take off a tight blouse to reveal a tighter bra. Then that hit the floor too and all Emma could see was the graceful line of Regina's spine. Her pussy, still sensitive from the joyful destruction the mayor had wrought, began to ache pleasingly.

 

Never turning, Regina reached into her purse and brought out a small bundle. She set it on the chair and arranged it neatly, then carried it down to the floor. The sight of her bent over gave Emma a mild heart attack.

 

One by one, she lifted her feet and set them between some of the leather straps that made up the bundle. Then she skimmed it up her legs like a pair of panties. A length of black leather in back almost disappeared between the cheeks of her buttocks; Regina tightened two more straps to her hips. Then Regina turned. Very, very slowly.

 

Emma knew what Regina was wearing. She still felt her heart pound as she saw it. Strapped to her was a black dildo, and mercifully it was only six inches. Emma had expected it to be bigger. Ruby had taken bigger. But that would be enough. More than enough, Emma thought, feeling both threatened and intrigued by the sight of the hard material jutting from Regina's crotch.

 

"What do you think?" Regina asked, running a finger along the black leather that cut minutely into her perfect skin. "Too tight?"

 

"It looks fine."

 

"I was talking about you."

 

Emma bit her lip. "Something about expanding my horizons?"

 

"Hmm?"

 

"I was trying to think of something clever to say. Clever and sexy."

 

"Are you nervous?"

 

"A little." Emma nodded. "A lot."

 

Nearly naked, Regina took a step toward her. Seeing her cock wobble in all its hardness made Emma, just for a moment, disbelieve that it could fit inside her. How could it? It wasn't that big, sure, but in comparison to her vagina… it wasn't like she'd tried fitting anything down there. How was she supposed to know what it could take? Maybe hers was smaller than the average.

 

And the way Regina was all… feminine and womanly, then with _that_ there where it shouldn't be, where Emma had seen nothing but soft pink flesh so many times… it was just surreal. Her entire relationship with Regina was like a dream; how far down would the rabbit hole go? At what point would the pain outweigh the pleasure? How did she know if she was in a dream or a nightmare?

 

Regina came nearer and nearer, one finger crooking about the dildo like she was as curious about it as Emma was. Pushing it this way and that so it sprung back, the black material catching the light, as shiny as an Apple store. When she came close to the seated Emma, she pressed on the dildo so it was aimed at Emma's mouth, the bulb resting on her bottom lip. It looked very accurate. A lot like Ewan McGregor's in Velvet Goldmine, Emma thought.

 

"It's okay to be nervous," Regina said sweetly. "That's why we're doing this. To put your mind at ease."

 

"I want to, but I feel like I'm gonna have an aneurysm. What if it doesn't… fit?"

 

"Of course it'll fit. The straps are adjustable."

 

"Huh?"

 

Regina pushed the dildo out of the way and stroked Emma's cheek. "Oh, my darling. You're not going to _take_ it. You're going to wear it." She took her hand away and moved it over, stroking Emma's other cheek with the back of her hand. "We're going to fuck, Emma. And you'll see what a beautiful thing that is. I'll show you."


	23. Chapter 23

Getting strapped in seemed to take forever. Emma held as still as she could, but Regina hovering around her, tightening and adjusting all the teasing straps, it had her electric. Regina didn't do all the work, though. She was insistent on Emma learning what went where. Emma fumbled, a lot, but managed to get it fastened around her waist. A scintillating motion from Regina connected the strap that went between her legs to keep the base of the dildo in place. Then, there it was. Emma stared down at it, with Regina behind, looking down from over her shoulder.

 

"It's sublime, isn't it?" Regina said. "Looking down between your breasts and seeing a cock there. It's just a little more taboo than fingers and lips. This is what men have. How can we possibly compete?"

 

Though Emma didn't look, she could feel Regina's smile beaming off her face as she reached around and took hold of the cock. Emma could've sworn she felt a phantom pressure as well, as if Regina's hand were on her arm or leg.

 

"Well," Regina said, with perfect matter-of-factness, "first we get it wet."

 

Her other hand came up to her face. She laved her palm with her tongue, covering it in slickness, then reached down to coat the dildo in the same wetness. Emma could definitely feel… something.

 

"Did you know, Emma, that there are some spiritualists who consider the shape of the phallus itself to be infused with male power?"

 

"No." Emma closed her eyes, trying to concentrate on the sensation. It was fleeting… tingling.

 

"It's true. And there are some who think that if a phallus is blessed with female power, it can merge with a woman's… oh, I forget the word. Her mojo." Regina's hand sped up. "She can feel it, just as a man would." She squeezed. Emma could tell, even with her eyes closed. "Can you feel me, Emma?"

 

"I don't… know." It had to be her imagination, surely. Regina was just making her see things… imagine things. It was all the power of suggestion.

 

Wasn't it?

 

Regina let go of the dildo, leaving it hanging in the air. It seemed harder than ever before. With a brisk kiss on the back of Emma's neck, Regina withdrew. Her hands clasped Emma's shoulders, nails digging in, the aggression shocking Emma. Was Regina that turned on when all she'd done was stroke a rubber prick?

 

Emma was turned around roughly. Regina stood before her, in nothing but stockings, garters, and panties. Her breasts were heaving, her nipples granite, a red bloom traveling her skin. She looked like she could do anything.

 

"Can you feel this?" Regina asked, getting down on her knees.

 

Emma almost gasped. "This—this isn't right."

 

"What's so wrong about it?" Regina asked casually, face to face with Emma's new friend. She rubbed her nose against it, like she was giving it an Eskimo kiss. "Does it feel wrong?"

 

"You're the… the mistress or whatever. You have the power. You can't just… do that. I'm the one who does it for you."

 

"You think I have all the power?" Regina asked, sounding mildly shocked, which was as surprised as Emma had ever heard her. She looked up as if there weren't six inches of wet dildo pointed at her. "Emma… I'm in your power. Totally. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you. All of this, I do it to please you. I didn't have…" She paused. " _Anyone_ growing up. And I want you to have me. Not just as a lover, not just as a mistress. As a friend. That's what this is. Two friends having fun."

 

"With a rubber penis," Emma added.

 

Regina giggled along with her. "Actually, I think it's silicone. Some damn space age… thing." She rubbed her pouty lips over the tip, and Emma instinctively braced herself for a wave of feeling that didn't come. "I wish I was your age. I wish I had known you when I was your age. I think we would've been closer than sisters."

 

"Yeah, sisters don't do _this_." Emma gave the appendage a little shake.

 

"No. They don't." Regina's tongue casually traced the shape of the glans. "All's well that ends well, though. Now I've got you. I've got you, my pretty, and your little cock too."

 

Emma laughed. It cut off when Regina pulled the dildo to point downwards and pushed her cleavage against it, running the head from one stiff nipple to the other as if she were drawing a picture with it. "I think I do feel that," Emma breathed.

 

Regina raised herself a little, high enough to trap the dildo between her bountiful breasts and sensuously rub them together. Emma swore she felt warm. She didn't care if it was an illusion or hypnosis or goddamn Wicca magic. It felt good. As good as everything Regina did to her.

 

"Suck it," Emma said, then frantically opened her eyes to see if she'd offended Regina. The mayor was looking up with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. She cocked her head as if to say 'I'm not sure I heard you right.'

 

"Put it in your mouth and suck it," Emma said confidently.

 

Regina took several jokingly deep breaths, as if she were preparing to dive for pearls, then she opened her mouth wide and—

 

Emma felt it. She knew she did. She felt something like an electric current run through her body from head to toe, but especially at her groin. It wasn't like when Regina had kissed or entered her there. It was… hotter. Not better, but faster and more intense. She felt, in leaps and gallops and sudden gulp, a warmth enter her. Like liquid, it pooled at her crotch before overflowing into her entire body. She shifted her weight from one side to the other, tensing her muscles with the strange pleasure that ran through them.

 

She wondered how it could be real while she felt her body respond—respond enthusiastically—to what it was being made to experience. Some kind of drug that Regina had slipped her, some sci-fi technology on the dildo? Or maybe Regina was more than a woman. Maybe she really was a goddess, in name as well as body.

 

Whatever tension she felt was drained away as Regina bobbed her head, slowly and passionately, on what Emma had come to think of as 'her' dildo. Judging by her hollowed cheeks and slurping sound effects, she was sucking rapturously as well. More and more of Emma's dildo was being lost to Regina's greedy mouth. Emma gasped with a sudden, almost violent shock of pleasure. Regina had bitten her, bitten the dildo. She had felt it. Like Regina had cut through all the levels of pleasure she could feel between where she was at and where she maxed out.

 

Emma looked down in stunned— _grateful_ disbelief. Regina looked her in the eye and winked, rubbing her thighs as she took the dildo ( _cock_ , a voice in Emma's mind insisted, _it was a cock_ ) deeper and deeper and her nose was against Emma's trim stomach and her lips were wrapped around the base of the… _cock_ , Emma thought. She liked the sound of it, even in her own head.

 

"She really knows how to suck cock," someone said. Emma jerked her eyes away from the sight of Regina, all the way to where Ruby was locking the door behind her. "Like mother, like daughter."

 

Despite the fact that Ruby was her— _co-lover_ , Emma's mind supplied lamely—the taboo nature of what she was doing crashed in on her. She tried to back away, but Regina's arms were wrapped around her legs, the older woman nursing on the cock like an alcoholic at a bottle.

 

"Holy shit," Ruby said, stepping closer and already undoing the apron strings from her shift at Granny's. "She's deepthroating that, isn't she?"

 

"Uhh…" Emma didn't quite know what that was. "Possibly?"

 

"Getting it all nice and wet…" Ruby stripped off her belly shirt and lost her micro-mini without snagging her high heels, all with practiced ease. In a moment, she was as naked as the rest of them.

 

_Well, it is a changing room,_ Emma's mind reasoned, before Emma told it to shut up when she was having sex.

 

Regina was slurping her way off the dildo, moaning with each inch that emerged from her mouth. When it finally popped free, she smacked her lips even more nosily, looking between Ruby and Emma with outright hunger in her eyes. Emma suspected she was as wide-eyed as Ruby. It had been some performance.

 

As if she were bored and just needed something to occupy her hands, five of Regina's fingers casually stroked the cock, while the others fleetingly ran over Ruby's firm thigh. Though she was on her knees, Regina seemed ten feet taller than either of them.

 

"Emma, a long time ago, Ruby gave herself to me. And now, tonight, I'm giving her to you." Regina gave Emma's dildo a little lick. _Nice and wet_ , Ruby had said. "I want you to use her, the same way you would want to be used by me. And I want you to note how much she enjoys what you do to her. What I am going to do to you." She gave Ruby a last pat on the rump. "Let her mount you. She's top dog now."

 

Ruby brazenly walked out into the store. The door was locked, April was gone, and the shutters were closed. They were a little bubble of sexuality, not on the outskirts of town like Regina's manor, but right in the middle of Storybrooke.

 

There was a larger mirror outside the dressing room, as if to congratulate the customer on what they settled on. Ruby paused in front of it, admiring her body. She primped her hair a little before looking back at Emma with a big smile.

 

"Well?"

  
Emma realized she was being teased. She stood there, still inside the changing room, not sure what to do. She was fuming a little, still thinking of what it'd be like to ease herself into Regina.

 

Impatiently, Regina swept by her, over to Ruby. She looked Ruby over, her obvious approval both arousing Emma and infuriating her. More and more, it felt like the capital-U Us had stopped being Regina and her; now it was Regina and Emma and Ruby. There was a time when it would've been a dream come true to have the two most beautiful women in Storybrooke loving her at the same time, but the reality was, she just wanted Regina. Regina was all she needed.

 

But she would also do anything to make Regina happy. And, as Regina vined herself around Ruby from behind like she was inviting her in, Emma knew this would make her _very_ happy. Like she was the babe on Jeopardy showing off a new car, Regina ran her fingers over Ruby's breasts, her crotch. Like a puppet, Ruby responded to the touches. Thrusting her cleavage out. Cocking her hips in a pose that invited attention to her thighs, her belly, her lap. Her sex was exposed. On display. _Nice and wet_.

 

"Come and get it," Regina said. It didn't sound like an order, but it was.

 

It was a little weird walking with the straps digging into her hips and the weight of the dildo settling against her pussy. The feeling was like little charges of static electricity zapping between her legs. It got to feel a little good as she came up to Ruby and Regina. Regina reached out to her, taking one leaden hand in hers.

 

"It's alright. Just give her a hug. A nice, big hug."

 

Ruby just stood there, smiling like a Cheshire cat. It was a challenge. Emma took a bold step forward, nearly bringing her body against Ruby's. They stood inches from each other. From the surge in Ruby's eyes, she was feeling the same charge. Between them, Regina's free hand took hold of the dildo. As she kissed Ruby's shoulder, Regina brought the tip up and guided it to the lips of Ruby's cunt.

 

"Closer…" Regina said softly. "Closer…"

 

Emma inched forward. The dildo resisted a little, braced against Ruby's body. The pressure at the base, at her pussy, felt good. She pushed back and saw Ruby's lips part wordlessly as she was entered. Emma almost wanted to jump back, pull out, ask Ruby if she was hurt, but Regina's wide smile reassured her. Looking down, she saw that, like the joke went, just the tip was in.

 

"More, Emma." Regina stepped out from behind Ruby, circling the now joined lovers as her hand trailed from one to the other. Emma purred as it touched her. "She needs more."

 

Emma decided then and there she wouldn't be hesitating anymore. She grabbed a great handful of Ruby's ass and held her in place as she entered her, not quickly, but constantly. Ruby's eyes widened as she was truly penetrated.

 

She was used to Regina's way, a great deal of foreplay leaving her sopping wet, then a quick thrust all the way to the hilt that usually had her coming before they'd even begun the rhythm. It was something Regina was incredibly smug about. But this—being entered inch by inch, _stretched_ inch by inch, was quite a different sensation. She found herself moaning; not the pleasured scream Regina enjoyed so much, but soft, velvet moans.

 

If Regina noticed the difference in technique, she didn't comment. Now at Emma's side, her chin perched on Emma's shoulder, she beamed proudly. "See how much she likes it? See what you're doing to her? It doesn't hurt. It feels good. Doesn't it, Ruby?"

 

"So _fucking_ good…" Ruby gasped, not even caring that it was Emma making her feel this.

 

"Deeper, Emma," Regina cajoled directly into the blonde's ear. "She needs all of it if she's going to come."

 

Ruby backed up a little as Emma advanced, quickly hitting the mirrored wall behind her. Emma pinned her there, feeling the push of the dildo's base against her own cunt like a strong hand.

 

"You're in control," Regina whispered, her breath hitting the back of Emma's neck. Her arms were wrapped around Emma's body, around Ruby's body, fingers coming to a rest on the backs of Ruby's thighs. She exerted a gentle pressure, urging Ruby's legs up. Ruby did as she was wordlessly asked, both Emma and Ruby holding her in place as she brought her legs up to enclose Emma. They got in Regina's way, so Regina grabbed her ankles and steadily leveled them upward, until Ruby was nearly folded in half, sandwiched between Emma and the wall. It was a position she was used to with Regina, but usually lying down.

 

"You have the power," Regina continued in Emma's ear, now rolling her hips against Emma's, showing her how to move to fuck Ruby in earnest. Ruby gasped out some strangled pleasure as she felt Emma move deliciously inside her. "She's your bitch, your slut, your whore. Make her come for you."

 

As she said it, Emma kissed Ruby, kissed her mouth, her neck, even the feet that were wrapped around her head. Ruby's eyes flashed with lust and she crushed her arms around Emma to pull her face to her sweat-slick breasts. Emma didn’t even kiss them, just enjoyed sliding her mouth over them, feeling more than tasting the salt on her lips.

 

Emma wasn't listening anymore. She didn't hear Regina as the mayor told her how to fuck Ruby, what Ruby liked, what Emma would like. She felt like she was seeing through a third eye, using a sixth sense, and she could feel both of them inside her like a racing heartbeat. It wasn't Ruby's voice as she chanted her pleasure, it was the ragged gasp transmitting from deep within Ruby's chest to Emma's, pressed tightly against hers. It wasn't Regina's tightly controlled voice, it was the growl of her breathing, spearing into Emma's back with a silent demand that pushed her onward.

 

Voices she could disseminate, question, interpret. This—Ruby's need, _Regina's_ need—was not to be resisted.

 

A part of Emma felt bad, using Ruby like she was just as much a sex toy as the belt cinched around her waist. But another part of her was baying in primal enjoyment. And that part seemed far larger.

 

She felt one of Regina's arms leave Ruby, letting her leg dangle away from their combined fuck. Now Regina circled it between Emma and Ruby's bodies, cradling Emma's stomach, feeling the muscles tense and strain with the effort of holding Ruby in place. The hand was flat on Emma's belly, as if holding her in turn, keeping her in position for Regina to grind against. To fuck without fucking.

 

Emma could feel Regina's throaty chuckle far more than she could hear it. "Excellent, Emma. She's coming so much. You're using her so _well_."

 

Emma hadn't even realized it, but Ruby had been screaming that she was coming for at least a minute. But it wasn't until her body shook with a deep, thunderous rumble that Emma was satisfied. She pushed herself into Ruby as deeply as possible, convinced that the only thing keeping her from merging with the other girl was Regina's arm holding her close. Ruby panted out what was left of her orgasm, fingers pressing painfully into Emma's back. They softened by degrees until they'd fallen limply to her side.

 

With one last, almost apologetic kiss against Ruby's flushed skin, Emma forced her head up. She was shocked when she saw Ruby looking back at her. The waitress's hair was a mess, her lipstick smeared, mascara running with tears of joy. She'd been laid, practically hurt. Emma had fucked her.

 

And, looking her in the eye, Emma felt an insane urge to throw Ruby down on her belly and take her all over again, from behind, seeing if the sweat on her back tasted any different than that on the front. And, looking Ruby in the eye, she knew the other woman wanted it as well. She wondered why she didn't.

 

_You'd hurt her_ , a reasonable, logical voice said in Emma's head. But it didn't sound very convincing. Ruby liked being hurt.

 

Emma forced herself to look to Regina, so much more comforting, so much safer. It had been mostly Regina's idea, after all. Not Ruby's and certainly not Emma's. All they'd done was enjoy another of Regina's games.

 

Regina smiled beatifically. Emma had no way of knowing it was for the anxiety written all over her face. "You did very well, my darling. Both of you. Very good girls, both."

 

She kissed them both on the cheek, Emma's left, Ruby's right. And then: "Carry her to the futon. Stay inside her."

 

Ruby moaned as Emma shifted inside her, carrying her to one of the furniture pieces that darted the store, moving with strength she didn't know she had. A moment ago, she'd thought she'd exhausted herself, attacking Ruby like that. Now she felt like she could run a marathon.

 

She kissed Ruby as she lowered her to the couch. Ruby lay down obligingly, spreading herself so her left leg was propped on top of the back and her right leg trailed to the floor. Emma practically collapsed on top of her, resting her head on Ruby's shoulder, Ruby's hair softly wonderful on her face. She could vaguely feel her—the dildo inside of Ruby, pulsing gently. It wouldn't take much for it to start throbbing, then beating, then pounding, then exploding.

 

"You're alright, you know," Ruby whispered to her.

 

"You're alright too."

 

Through the curtains, the frosted forms of Storybrooke's citizens went about their business.

 

"I'm sorry if I made you feel bad."

 

"It's okay. Maybe there's stuff I should feel bad about."

 

Emma could feel the caution, the nerves in Ruby's body as she wrapped an arm around Emma's body. She'd done it before, forcing them together during their sex, but this was different, of course.

 

"I've always wanted a sister," Ruby said, not quite wistfully. More of a statement.

 

"Is that what we are?"

 

"I don't know. I just like you a lot, that's all. Not…" Emma could see her trying to find a gesture that encompassed all of their present circumstances. It made them both laugh. "Not like this. This is fun, though."

 

"Yeah."

 

"We should hang out sometime. With clothes on."

 

"That'd be nice." Emma lifted her head a little. She was worried she'd become too comfortable. "Where'd Regina get off too?"

 

"I'm still here," Regina said. Emma looked up to see Regina standing over them. Her eyes widened, while Ruby laughed hysterically. Regina cut an intimidating profile, even nude, but the strap-on was a bit much.

 

"What're you gonna do with that?" Emma asked, a little cowed.

 

Regina addressed her with evident satisfaction in her nervousness. "You've had Ruby. Now I'm going to have her too." Her smile was dazzling. "We're going to share her."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Need a favor, want someone to beta my manuscript, make you a deal, release the next chapter of TWS a week early if I get a beta.


	24. Chapter 24

"What's wrong, dear?" Regina asked, noticing Ruby's discomfort. It was hard not to. Even Emma had, feeling her body tense up, a frozen expression on her face. She'd pulled out and Ruby had whimpered gratefully, suddenly frigid.

 

"It's nothing," Ruby said with false confidence. "Really nothing, I mean just…" She smiled weakly. "Where's it going to go?"

 

Regina looked down at the dildo strapped snugly to her loins. It was the same size as Emma's, modest. She'd thought of going smaller, considering where it was headed, but she just couldn't stomach the thought of Emma having a bigger one than her, just as she couldn't abide actually bottoming for Emma. Being able to manipulate Emma, even when on her knees, made her feel far more powerful than simply beating her ass raw.

 

Someone about that thought—being more powerful on her knees—reverberated with her, but she filed it away when she noticed Emma had withdrawn from Ruby.

 

"Oh, Ruby…" she said disappointedly. "I thought you were going to keep Emma inside you. You could have her there…" She put her hand down on Ruby's thigh, angled toward her crotch. "And I could have you here." She ran her palm over Ruby's flesh until she was cupping the meat of her perfectly formed buttocks, squeezing it possessively.

 

For the first time in her affair with Ruby, nervousness seemed to outweigh intrigue. "But… back there… we've never done that before." Ruby looked at Emma, whose face was slack, not sure what to think. Was this another game or…? "And Emma too… what if it's too much?"

 

"You think you can't take it?" Regina asked, almost condescendingly.

 

"What if I can't?"

 

"It's not your job to know, sweetie. It's mine." Regina petted her hair lovingly.

 

Emma was still on top of Ruby, and with the way Ruby fidgeted, she felt uncomfortably like she was holding her down. She rolled over to the side and got up on her knees. Regina's eyes flashed to her in irritation. Ruby didn't get up, though.

 

"Maybe…" Ruby said hesitantly, not used to second-guessing her mistress. "Maybe Emma could fuck me and I could lick you. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

 

"Ruby, what's the matter with you? This isn't the girl who begged me to take a riding crop to her, is it?" Regina twined her fingers in Ruby's hair. "This isn't the girl who asked for the biggest dildo I had. Is it just that you haven't tried it up the ass? Is that it? Are you scared?"

 

Ruby nodded mutely.

 

"There's nothing to be scared of." Regina petted Emma's shoulder with her other hand. "Emma and I have tried it that way. She loved it. Didn't you Emma?"

 

"Yes," Emma said automatically. "It was nice."

 

She hadn't even thought about it. She'd known, instinctively, that Regina had wanted her to lie and she'd leapt to do Regina's bidding. It bothered her. So did the fact that she was desperate to share Ruby as Regina had suggested, the two of them doing the fucking, Ruby taking it.

 

"Emma was nervous too," Regina continued, lying so smoothly she might've been giving a history lesson. "At first. But I was very gentle with her, just like I'm going to be with you. I went nice and slow. I kissed her cute little ass…" Regina nuzzled her face in Emma's hair as she spoke, squelching the tiny desire Emma felt to tell the truth. "I rubbed lube into it… that was fun. I pushed my fingers in, one at a time. Pointer. Middle. Ring. She came just from that. Just from getting ready, Ruby. Then I took my fingers out and she was ready for me. Look at this tiny little dildo I'm wearing. It's not even as big as the one I used on Emma. But she took that one just fine. And she came. I didn't even touch her cunt, but I swear, it absolutely _flooded_. Afterward, I told Emma that with three of us, a woman could be fucked both ways at once. She begged for it. Begged, Ruby. But I told her that since we hadn't let you be part of our new game, it was only fair that you get to be the center of attention next time. And now here you are. Acting like a nervous little girl, spurning me when I'm trying to be good to you. Is this what you had in mind when you signed the contract? I thought you wanted to try new things with me, to experiment, to grow. Maybe you don't. Maybe you want to make out in the backseat of a movie theater like the other pathetic girls in this town, no imagination, no sense of adventure. But I sensed you were special."

 

"I am special!" Ruby insisted. "No one else makes you feel like I do!"

 

"Then prove it," Regina demanded, her eyes flashing with tightly controlled rage.

 

Ruby looked down. "I'm sorry, mommy."

 

Emma felt the weight of the dildo she wore pulling at her. Its head was touching Ruby's thigh, and maybe it was just how it was braced against her pussy when it pushed into Ruby, but…

 

"Sorry for what?" Regina continued.

 

"Sorry for being ungrateful. I want you to fuck me, mommy, really I do."

 

"I know _that_ , Ruby. I want to know how you want me to fuck you _tonight_."

 

Ruby looked down, her face burning red, her body starting to tingle. Sometimes she wished they could spend a few hours just on _this_ , Regina telling her what to do, because she loved the way Regina talked in those moments. She was, at the same time, almost unbelievably dirty and sexual, while regal and powerful as she never was in public.

 

Emma liked it too. She ran the dildo over Ruby's leg, half-sure the feel of Ruby's soft skin was being transmitted up its length and into her moistening sex.

 

"I want you to fuck me in the ass," Ruby said hesitantly, looking up at Regina with big, wide eyes. Her innocence made it all the sweeter.

 

"And what else?" Regina demanded. "Remember, I'm not the only one you have to ask."

 

Ruby looked at Emma. Her eyes were big and moist and needy. She looked even younger than Emma. "Can you fuck my pussy while mommy fucks my ass?" Ruby asked sweetly. "I'll be good, I promise. I'll be so good for you."

 

"Well, _Mistress Emma_?" Regina asked with a pleased grin. "One vote and it becomes unanimous."

 

Emma took hold of her dildo and it felt so good. "I say we fuck the bitch."

 

Regina smiled fiercely. "That's my girl." She kissed Emma first, then Ruby. "My two darling little girls." Then she hugged them both at the same time. Emma was still holding onto her strap-on, Ruby was still butt-naked. But Emma felt a strange sense of warmth then. She'd never had friends like Ruby and Regina. People who understood her.

 

"Now Emma," Regina said, lovingly straightening Emma's hair as if for a photo op. "It's your job to take care of your little sister. You have to kiss her and stroke her and put her at ease. Otherwise, she won't be able to let me love her like I want to. And I know you're not a very affectionate girl, you love keeping yourself all bottled up, but can you do this for mommy? Can you take good care of Ruby?"

 

"Yes, mommy." It just slipped out of Emma. "Of course."

 

"Such a good girl," Regina bopped Emma's nose. "Just do as I showed you. Kiss Ruby and hug her and tell her how pretty she is. Get her comfortable with losing her virginity. Just like I'm going to do for you. You just have to remember that she wants this."

 

***

 

For what seemed like hours Emma lost herself in Ruby. Despite the brave face she put on, Emma could tell the brunette was still nervous, but she seemed more relaxed with every small kiss Emma gave her. They weren't passionate things, just little meetings of their lips.

 

Ruby lay almost on the edge of the couch, Emma against the cushions, both of them on their sides, their hands busy between them. Emma elbowed Ruby's arms around as she groped her, making Ruby feel her breasts, her waist, eventually even the hard weight of the dildo loose between them. Ruby seemed just a little calmer, holding it.

 

Regina knelt down beside them. Almost shyly, she kissed Ruby's neck. Emma felt Ruby's hands tighten on her body. She giggled as she stroked the dildo, and Emma kissed her harder, kissed her until Regina pulled Ruby away and claimed those needy lips for herself. Emma impatiently sucked on Ruby's ear as Regina impudently pulled at Ruby's lip with her teeth, spending a good thirty seconds just teasing Ruby before she finally went back to kissing her. Then, after leaving Ruby breathless, she broke loose from her and angled her face toward Emma with a single finger.

 

As Emma kissed her, Regina took the blonde's hand and moved it like a doll's, down over Ruby's body. Emma felt how hard Ruby's nipples were, how damp the little patch of hair at her crotch had become. In fact, she could smell it. Ruby's arousal filled the air.

 

Emma and Regina's fingers linked as Regina continued to guide her, rubbing their joined hand over Ruby's groin. Gently, softly, doing more to smear her liquid arousal around than to pressure or penetrate. Ruby groaned deep in her chest, moaned in the scant seconds her lips were free, being passed from Emma to Regina. Emma lost herself again, spending hours sharing Ruby with her mistress, tasting Regina just a little on Ruby's lips, then exploring Ruby's body when Regina took her turn. The taste of sweat on Ruby's swan-like neck and delicate collarbone was all Ruby, and it made for a sweet contrast with the slightly sweeter taste of Ruby + Regina.

 

Finally, Ruby's hips gave a start like she'd touched a live wire. She finally released her death-grip on the couch and instead wrapped her fingers on the backs of her lovers' necks, guiding them in to suck at her throat at the same time, two vampires splitting a meal.

 

"I'm ready," she said, eyes closed.

 

Regina kissed her once more, far more gently than Emma had known she was capable of. It was like a phantom touch and Emma wondered if Ruby could even feel it, it was so light. "I love you, my precious thing. And Emma loves you."

 

Moving slowly, with infinite care, she kissed her way down Regina's neck to her shoulder, placing her lips as carefully as acupuncture needles. Ruby sighed softly with each caress of those full lips. It wasn't as pleasant as being passed between Emma and Regina like a bottle of wine, but it was a nice cooldown, jangling her nerves a little while still letting her breathe.

 

Emma took up Regina's place. She petted Ruby's hair. She nuzzled their faces together. She even ran her hand from Ruby's far cheek to her sternum like she was petting a dog. Ruby's sighs got a little softer, a little easier. "She's right," Emma said, kissing Ruby's other cheek as she spoke. "I do love you. I don't know how, but—God, you're so beautiful."

 

Regina's kisses melted down Ruby's spine. Regina went even slower, as if cataloging each of Ruby's vertebra in turn.

 

"Will it hurt?" Ruby asked.

 

"Only a little," Emma replied, momentarily hating herself for the lie, even if it was Regina's wish. Lying came fast and easy to her with Regina's OK. Like siphoning gas from a car, it tasted foul at first, but then gravity took over and everything just flowed. "It feels weird more than anything else. But then, once you get used to it, it's really nice."

 

"I love you, Emma," Ruby said, her eyes wide and child-like once more. Emma had a hard time reconciling this act of Ruby's with the tough, sass-mouthed waitress who gave her grandmother hell. Was it an act?

 

"I love you too. You're my best friend."

 

"Oh!" The sudden exclamation from Ruby was harsh in the still air. She was making a face, anxious but not unpleased. "She's there."

 

Regina was kissing Ruby's hip as her hands cupped the girl's ass. She massaged gently, kissed possessively.

 

"You should feel honored," Regina said as she squeezed harder. "I don't kiss just anyone's ass in this town."

 

Emma moved her hips a little, and the dildo sparingly touched Ruby's mons. She took Ruby's face in both her hands and kissed her lips. And Regina lifted Ruby's topmost leg until it was up and over Emma's body, wrapping them together, exposing her ass.

 

"I love you both," Ruby said haltingly, as Regina kissed her ass faster, moving down to her anus, "I love you so much," as Emma smothered the words in kisses.

 

Suddenly, Emma felt Regina's fingers skim below her strap-on and onto her pussy. It was like dropping a match into gasoline. Up until then, she hadn't realized how wet it'd made her—controlling Ruby as she had.

 

Regina pulled her damp fingers away and sucked them into her mouth, moaning exaggeratedly as she licked Emma's wetness off them, replacing it with her own. Emma knew the sound was just for effect, but the gasoline kept burning. She couldn't stop thinking about the wet heat of Ruby's cunt, inches away from her dildo, and whether the magic would let her feel how tight it was this time.

 

Regina looked into Emma's eyes as she dragged her wet fingers out of her mouth, sharing Emma's thoughts. She reached down and rubbed at Ruby's ass, circling for an instant before thrusting inside. Ruby stiffened, not from pain, but with surprise. "Fuck, you've got big fingers, Regina."

 

"I have something much bigger," Regina reminded her teasingly. 

 

Ruby squirmed like a worm on her hook as her tight ass slowly gave way under Regina's persistent thrusting. Regina's finger moved deep inside, prompting a slow yelp from Ruby, and Regina broke out in a smile.

 

"Now you, Emma," Regina said. "Give this little bitch a cock."

 

Emma's breathing tightened. She wrapped her arms hesitantly around Ruby, holding her in place as she shimmied her hips closer. Her eyes left Regina for Ruby, and got a small nod from the brunette. She kissed Ruby as she deftly maneuvered herself inside, feeling Ruby's tongue jolt with a little unvoiced scream.

 

"I can feel you," Regina breathed in gleeful wonderment. Emma's cock was in Ruby, along with her fingers. Only a thin layer of flesh separated them. "Give me your hand, Ruby."

 

Ruby threw her hand out and, when Regina took it, squeezed it hard. Regina laughed coyly and unwound Ruby's fingers as best she could with one hand, biting the knuckles when Ruby wouldn't let go. Finally, Ruby had two fingers extended and Regina was holding them. She brought them happily to Ruby's own ass.

 

"What are you doing?" Ruby begged in both lust and fear.

 

"I just need you to hold the door for me."

 

Regina slipped her finger out of Ruby even as she thrust Ruby's fingers in. For a moment, Ruby had three fingers in her ass and the pain was overwhelming. Then, just two, and the relief let her breathe. Regina smiled in self-satisfaction and reached around to massage Ruby's clit, replacing the pain with intense pleasure.

 

"Now don’t you dare move your fingers," Regina warned. "Unless you want to go deeper. Momma has a job for her special helpers to do."

 

Emma and Ruby both watched with bated breath as Regina hurried to her purse, hips swaying with each dignified step. Emma could feel Ruby like a part of herself, tightening and clenching on her cock, and she could only imagine how it felt for Ruby to be fingering her own ass. She tried to kiss Ruby again, but only caught her cheek as the other woman turned her head to follow Regina.

 

The mayor was returning, holding a thick glass bottle in her hands. "Do you know what this is, my lovelies?"

 

"Lubricant," Ruby moaned.

 

"That's right." Regina unscrewed the cap. "It's non-toxic, biodegradable—even tastes like cherries. And I could apply it myself—but I thought I'd offer you the chance."

 

"Oh please, mommy—"

 

"—yes, please—"

 

"Not with your hands," Regina replied amusedly, noting approvingly that one of Ruby's hands was still at her ass. "With your mouths. Open wide. Say ahh."

 

Emma and Ruby were nothing if not obedient. Regina poured the concoction into their open mouths, watched them wrinkle their noises as the strong-but-pleasant taste, then cocked her hips with her hands at her waist to offer them their play.

 

Ruby got their first, capturing the head of Regina's phallus in her mouth and slowly sucking her way up its length like a sword-swallower. Emma didn't want to be left out. She ran her open mouth along either side of the shaft before Ruby could inhale it, then kissed the helpless Ruby's face as the brunette took the dildo deep into her throat.

 

Ruby obligingly spat out the dildo, letting Emma take it, take it and nearly choke herself trying to replicate Ruby's feat. Ruby laughed and licked Emma's face, both her and her mistress enjoying Emma's look of delighted disgust. Regina pulled out herself, not willing to let Emma gag herself, and held the dildo away when either of them tried to imbibe.

 

Ruby got the idea first. She stuck out her tongue, the lube still glistening on it, and Regina dropped the dildo down to her level. She let both Ruby and Emma bat it around with their tongues, play with it, own it as much as she did. When the lube had run thin between them and they were kissing each other as much as Regina's cock, Regina pulled it away. They barely even noticed.

 

"Emma, get below Ruby. We're going to make a sandwich."

 

 _Such obedient little girls,_ Regina thought. And to think Mary-Margaret complained of how willful Emma was. What rubbish that was. She just needed the right incentive and look how easily she was broken in. A willing sub, just like the big bad wolf.

 

Positive reinforcement, that was the key.

 

Now Emma was lying flat on her back, Ruby straddling her, her strap-on. Regina took a moment to pay homage to the newly exposing skin, running her hand from Emma's lips, down her chest, up her loins, over Ruby's belly, all the way to cup Ruby's chin and kiss the girl's perfect little mouth. She wished she had more time to see those lips stretched out by her cock, but she didn't want anything to dry.

 

"I'm going to make you come so hard, it'll be a wonder if you don't break."

 

Ruby gasped with need. "Break me."

 

Ruby's breathing only got worse as Regina climbed behind her. She playfully squeezed Ruby's ass, its hole still held open by Ruby's fingers. Then she pulled Ruby's hand away.

 

Ruby felt a sudden sense of emptiness, especially contrasted with how pleasantly full her cunt was. She'd grown used to having Emma there, almost bored with it, but her ass was sensitive, aching. She knew Regina was about to enter her, but didn't dare look back to see the exact moment of penetration. She just tried to breathe.

 

"Emma," Regina said suddenly, and Ruby nearly jumped out of her skin. "Be a dear and hold Ruby's tight little ass open for me."

 

"Yes, mistress," Emma replied automatically. Her fingers stepped on either curve of Ruby's rump. Then she eased them apart, exposing a nice brown hole for Regina to fuck.

 

Even Regina was breathing hard as she aimed the dildo, dripping with lubricant, at Ruby's ass. She pushed it against Ruby's hole and let go of it, now running her hands over Ruby's smooth asscheeks and Emma's hands. Together, she and Emma held onto Ruby. Then Regina eased her hips forward, as subtly as she would do yoga.

 

Ruby moaned, almost politely, as she was penetrated. It'd been intimidating enough feeling Regina's lube-slick knob poking at her asshole. Now it was prying inside, battling with her body's virgin tightness, gently but insistently using force.

 

Regina laughed at the strain in Ruby's voice, at how much dildo was waiting to go inside yet. She brushed Ruby's hair off her back so it hung down to Emma's face, then ran her nails down Ruby's spine. The girl made a creening noise as the sensation briefly distracted from the anal intrusion. Regina's laughter was musical as she settled her hands on Ruby's waist, held her tight, and jammed herself in several inches at a time.

 

"No—no," Ruby whimpered, and Emma wasn't sure she meant it.

 

"Relax, darling." Regina ran her nails soothingly along Ruby's spine once more. "The hard part's over. It's in. It's in."

 

"It's too big… you're too big…"

 

"It fits. It's fitting right now." Regina was almost agog as Ruby's tight flesh gave up the fight and allowed her to press harder into Ruby's ass. "Emma, rub her clit."

 

"What?" Emma had been lost in Ruby's face, the simultaneous expression of pain and want in her eyes. She knew she should say something, just not what.

 

"You heard me. Rub her clit." Regina was smiling widely. "Make her feel good so I can go deeper."

 

"Yes, mistress." That was what she should say. Emma reached down between their bodies, feeling the raw leather of straps, lubricant smeared over warm skin, and finally a knot of flesh, rubbery and wet, upright with arousal. She flicked it back and forth like a light switch, heard Ruby groan, pinched it gently and rubbed it between her fingers. Ruby panted and kissed her cheek a few times, gratefully.

 

Emma wrapped her other arm around Ruby's back, holding her tight. The look on Regina's face had turned greedy once more. She grabbed hold of Emma's harness, now controlling Ruby by Emma's cock in her pussy, and forced them both toward her. Ruby struggled to take her penetration, but cried between her gasps.

 

"It hurts! It hurts!" Then she fell silent, her body going stiff as steel, as Regina finally pierced her.

 

Emma felt her dildo again—it was as if being fucked in the ass had made Ruby's pussy even tighter. She let out a long, low moan of satisfaction at the new pressure. She moved to kiss Ruby and found the other girl's face taut, a rictus of pain. "…hurts…"

 

"It's okay." Emma rubbed Ruby's back. She circled the heel of her hand on Ruby's clit, trying to help replace pain with pleasure. "It's okay, it won't hurt for long. Just a little while longer."

 

"Yesss…" Regina drawled. She was dragging her nails from the crown of Ruby's head to her tailbone, clawing between her hair. She fucked like a metronome, withdrawing only enough to send a hard fucking jolt into Ruby, once every ten seconds, the motion forcing Ruby's body up so the nails dug into her skin. Fierce red scratches branded Ruby's back like highway lane markers.

 

"Your ass is exquisite, my dear." Regina spoke softly, marking each sentence with a harsh thrust from her hips. "Your pussy is nice. But the way your ass just stretches around my cock. Your very flesh surrendering to me. It's so. Fucking. Hot."

 

A thrust so hard it shook the couch had Ruby wailing. A tear dashed out of her eye, ran down her cheek, and dripped onto Emma's face. She tasted it over her lips.

 

Emma slowed her hands way down, relaxing Ruby as best she could between the lightning strikes. "She's right. You're amazing. You're taking it so good. Is it starting to feel good now? It's feeling good now, isn't it? You're going to come soon, aren't you? What's going to make you come? Is it me fucking your pussy? Am I hitting your G-spot? Are you wet?" Emma swiped her fingers over Ruby's sopping labia, right where her dildo split it. "Oh God, you're so wet. Thank you for getting so wet for me. Do you wanna taste how wet you are?"

 

Ruby nodded; Emma felt her chin wagging against her shoulder. She brought her hand up. It was glistening. Ruby came up just long enough to bite down on the wetness, sucking so hard on the webbing of Emma's hand that she left a hickey. And she nudged Emma's own hard to her lips. Emma sucked on the fingers that weren't in Ruby's mouth, sharing the taste with her.

 

"Does she taste good?" Regina asked, with a particularly destructive thrust.

 

"She does." Emma looked Ruby in the eye. Tears were coming faster now. "You taste so good, baby. Thank you for tasting so good."

 

"It's so big," Ruby sobbed, as she rocked her hips back against Regina. "It's good, but it's so big… I wanna come, but it hurts…"

 

Tears flowed down Ruby's cheek as she rubbed her reddening body against Emma's paleness, sinking into Emma's embrace with each quickening thrust from Regina. She clawed at the couch underneath Emma, trying to separate pain from pleasure.

 

Regina was fucking as hard as Ruby's tightness would let her. She barely restrained herself. Ruby's flesh was rippling like waves in stormy weather under the repeated impacts.

 

"Nothing like a little doggy-style, is there dearie?" the mayor asked. She took hold of Ruby's hair like a society woman riding side-saddle. Ruby's body was pulled forcibly against her driving cock by each tug. "And here's a good leash. Yes. Yes, good girl, too. Who's my good girl? Who's my good girl?"

 

"I am!" Ruby screamed.

 

"Good doggie!" Regina stopped thrusting. Ruby moaned something that sounded like 'don't stop'. Regina gave her an airy little thrust, just a waggle of her hips, that had Ruby crying herself hoarse. "You're a good dog!" Another thrust, harder, faster. Ruby shrieked. "And a good dog comes when she's called!"

 

The next thrust slapped Ruby against Emma's body. She saw Ruby's stricken face open its eyes. The eyes widened, widened, pupils dilated, lids disappearing into the whites of her eyes. Emma felt a fresh wave of Ruby's juices, warm and wet, coat her thighs. Ruby opened her mouth to scream, but this time nothing came out. She just hung above Emma with her mouth open until Regina let go of her hair. Then she slumped down on top of Emma, her breathing so light she was practically motionless.

 

"That's one," Regina said, and began thrusting again.

 

It was at a gentle pace, like a pony's trot, but Emma heard Ruby's breath rattle in her throat. "Both my holes…" she was saying softly. Emma couldn't tell if she was shocked or pleased. She didn't think Ruby could either.

 

And Emma could feel the dildo even more sharply now. She could feel it, and Regina's thick shaft pressing up against it through the thin membrane of Ruby's body. Then she felt Regina's hands, sliding around Ruby's body to take hold of her breasts. And finally, she felt Ruby, biting down on her shoulder like a soldier on a bullet.

 

"Help me, Emma," Regina ordered. "Don’t let Ruby do all the work."

 

Regina's thrusts were making Ruby thrust against Emma, suck herself down onto Emma's prick like she was trying to get away at the same time she was trying to get more inside her. More of Regina. More of Emma. More of anything.

 

Now Regina and Ruby were fucking into Emma, starting ripples of excitement that rolled further and further. And Emma realized that it wasn't her and Regina fucking Ruby. No, Ruby's body was rubbing against her like a sex doll, Ruby's cunt was sucking at her like a mouth. And it was all Regina's doing.

 

Regina was fucking both of them.

 

Ruby came again almost at once, sobbing a tearful phrase that begged them for something they couldn't hear over her own whimpers. Emma could only make out a single word. "More."

 

Emma gave it to her. So did Regina. They reached all the way around Ruby and held onto each other and fucked, buffeting Ruby between them like a punching bag. They fucked Ruby and fucked each other, going faster and faster, then softer and softer, the only limit they abided by the screams Ruby made as she came, when they would slow to a stop and let her breathe for a few minutes, until inevitably she started whimpering and they gave it to her all over again. They didn't stop when Regina's phone rang, or when Ruby's vibrated, or when Emma's played Baby Got Back. They didn't even stop when Ruby fell unconscious, trapped between them, or when Ruby came again in her sleep, silently drenching Emma's cock with a gush of fluid. And then Regina slipped her hand between their burning bodies, down to Emma's clit, and with a touch, finally let her come.

 

"No more," Ruby said in her sleep, as Regina slid out of her, gently ushered her off Emma's dildo as well. "No more."

 

Emma watched Regina lower the girl to the carpet under the couch, then take her place on the cushions. She remembered how Ruby had quaked like a dying leaf as Regina thrust into her, again and again. When Regina wrapped her arms around her, the mayor was so much more steady. Like warm, ancient rock.

 

"What do we say?" Regina asked as Emma's eyelids grew heavy.

 

"Thank you, mommy."

 

"You're very welcome."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second part will be posted later tonight.


	25. Chapter 25

They woke up before Ruby. Emma, at least. She wasn't sure if Regina had gone to sleep or had just lain there, watching her girls sleep. Emma in her arms, Ruby curled up in a little ball on the floor.

 

Emma checked her watch. An hour had passed since she'd shut her eyes. She still didn't know how long they'd been having sex, but it was dark out now. She took her hands off Regina, who got up, cracked her neck, and went to collect a trenchcoat from where it was ordered. She put it on over her naked body, then removed the strap-on. Emma did the same with her dildo, drooping between the seat cushions.

 

She laid there on the couch as Regina left, came back with a bucket of steaming warm water and a sponge. Kneeling beside Ruby, Regina woke her gently by scrubbing at her shoulders.

 

"It's very important to ease someone out of an intense experience," Regina lectured, her voice aimed at Emma. "Sometimes I cuddle with her, sometimes I brush her hair, sometimes we shower together. It doesn't matter. What matters is that she knows I'm here for her, no matter what happened in bed."

 

"Can I do it?" Emma asked.

 

Regina handed her the sponge. Ruby was silent as Emma dunked it in the water again, wrenched it out, and ran it over her sweaty body.

 

"Should I leave you alone?" Regina asked. She got a nod from Emma. "And how about you?" She brushed her hand along Ruby's face. Ruby looked at her blankly. "Do you want to be alone with Emma?"

 

"Yes," Ruby croaked.

 

"Alright. I'll let you two bond." Regina kissed Emma's forehead and stood. "I think we'll wait a while before we try that again. Some things you just aren't ready for. But you're my girls all the same."

 

Taking her purse and leaving her clothes strewn across the floor, Regina went out the backdoor. Ruby waited until she heard Regina's car start, drive, before she closed her eyes. She let out a sigh that seemed to go on for ages, like a gas leak.

 

"I'm sorry," Emma said, cleaning Ruby's shoulders.

 

Ruby let herself be unwound from her fetal position at Emma's urging. "What for?"

 

"That… got a little intense. I wasn't expecting it."

 

"It's why we like her," Ruby said. "She's intense. The rest of this town is slow and charming and quaint, but she makes you feel things. Can you get me my clothes?"

 

Emma left the sponge floating in its bucket to get them. When she brought them back, Ruby nodded to the couch and Emma dumped them there. Ruby didn't move to dress herself. She reached into a pocket and pulled out cigarettes, then a lighter. She lit up. When Emma started washing her again, she closed her eyes approvingly. Smoke trickled from between her lips.

 

"Kiss me please," Ruby said quickly.

 

She was sitting against the couch by then, her legs steepled, so Emma kissed her knee. Ruby nodded, like that was exactly what she wanted. She spread her legs and Emma sexlessly washed away the pink aftereffects of Regina. Ruby shuddered; winced.

 

"We've never done that before," Emma said.

 

"You get used to it."

 

"I mean I've never done it before. With Regina. I lied."

 

Ruby looked at her for what seemed like the first time. It was hard to tell what was behind her eyes. Mostly, she just looked confused.

 

"You said it wouldn't hurt," Ruby said blandly. "You said because… you and Regina…"

 

"It never happened. We haven't even gotten past third base. She lied and I backed her up. I'm sorry."

 

"It's alright. She wanted you to." Ruby held out her hand. It took Emma a moment to realize she wanted the sponge. She gave it over, and Ruby began scrubbing her face, her lips. "It's hard saying no to her. She always has to get what she wants."

 

"I promise I'll never do anything like that again."

 

"I know you won't. You're not like us."

 

"Us?"

 

Ruby dropped the sponge in the bucket. Her eyes had narrowed. "We should get dressed."

 

***

 

Regina had her own comedown rituals. The day had been more than she'd expected, Snow White's daughter and best friend both proving far more pliable than she'd anticipated. Bending to her every whim, showering her with all their affection. It was exactly what she'd wanted a year ago, when she'd allowed herself to notice the young princess's charms in earnest. All that she'd wanted and more.

 

She treated herself to a glass of wine, and though she had an urge to continue through the bottle, she switched to tea instead. As she drank, ate (a delicious apple custard whose recipe she'd been itching to try), she allowed her mind to wander back to the day's escapades. Though she'd changed into a dressing gown, she hadn't showered yet, and it didn't take much to notice the scent of rutting on her. Ruby's sweat, Emma's lipstick. She let her gown yawn open a little, let the air stir her body, though she knew she wouldn't be masturbating that night. Her lust would be kept to a quiet flame. Far more satisfying was the memory of eagerly pursued degradation.

 

In the Enchanted Forest, a young lady would've been shocked at the suggestion that she willingly partake in such things. Now, two of them had capered under Regina as if it were their own idea. They answered to 'bitch' like it was a pet name. And of course, it was accurate in Ruby's case.

 

Perhaps she needed a different nickname for sweet little Emma. 'Cunt', perhaps. Or 'whore'. Something the girl would eagerly rub all over herself.

 

Regina smiled to her empty house. For once abandoning her dishes without cleansing, she went to her office, ignoring the papers that had begun to pile up and the voice mails on the phone. They had waited while she corrupted her girls; they could wait longer. Now she dug into a desk drawer, typed in the code to the small lockbox inside, and reached past her semi-automatic pistol to her ring and its chain. Holding it up by the latter, she allowed herself to look at the magical image trapped inside—so much more alive than a photograph or video ever could be. Her Daniel.

 

"They're not you," she said, remembering his kisses, his nickname—never anything as derogatory as what she called her 'substitutes', "but they'll do."

 

She dropped the ring back into the lockbox and wondered when, in the last eighteen years, she had stopped feeling the urge to cry when she looked into it. That was, after all, why she had locked it away in the first place.

 

"Nice bling," Ruby said. Regina looked up sharply, automatically pulling her gown shut. The waitress was in the doorway, wearing as much clothes as Regina had ever seen on her. Jeans that weren't cut-off and a jacket, even.

 

It only took Regina a moment to be the mayor, the dominatrix, the queen once more. "Back for more already? I knew I should've used a bigger dildo. It's just so rare to meet a true size queen these days."

 

Ruby's arms were crossed. It was something she did rarely, seeing as it impeded looks at her cleavage. "I know what you did."

 

A small part of Regina panicked, but she was long used to not showing parts of herself. "Be more specific," she growled, unamused.

 

"You had Emma lie for you. Lie so you could get me into another of your sick games."

 

"I lost count of your orgasms after I filled up one hand." Regina flashed five fingers. "I know it feels good, showing your tits to the entire town, but does it feel _that_ good?"

 

"That isn't the point!" Ruby insisted.

 

"I could have you bent over this desk and forgetting you're even upset in five words. That sounds like the point to me."

 

"I want you to break up with Emma."

 

Regina stood slowly. She tied the belt on her gown. "Should I pretend I didn't hear that now or would you like to go on pretending you're the dom?"

 

"She's not like us. She doesn't deserve this. I don't either, but then, I know you like that. She doesn't."

 

"A little white lie, Ruby." Regina stepped out from behind her desk. "A little something to put you at ease so we could have some fun. Is that what you're so upset about?

 

"Tell Emma you don't want to see her anymore or I'll tell you the truth and she'll break up with you."

 

Regina had been walking up to Ruby. Now she stopped. "What truth would that be?"

 

"Come on. I may be a slut, but I'm not an idiot. You told me to take Emma to the exact theater where her boyfriend was cheating on her. You set it up. I don't know how you did it, but you did. And it's one thing to get rid of someone's shitty boyfriend, but it's another to get rid of him so you can be her shitty girlfriend."

 

Regina rolled her eyes. "If you really hate getting fucked in the ass this much, you probably should've told me not to do it."

 

Ruby darkened. "Fine. I'll tell her."

 

"Wait," Regina said, as soon as Ruby turned to leave. And she did. "You're going to make this difficult, aren't you?"

 

"How could it be easy?"

 

"Come with me." Regina swooped out of the room before Ruby had to chance to say no. Of course, she followed. "You have me all wrong, you know. I do care about you. About Emma. I only do what's best for you."

 

"I don't want to hear your stump speech."

 

"I can prove it."

 

Regina went to the staircase that led to the basement dungeon, the door safely tucked away behind a padlock. Unlocked, since she wasn't expecting visitors. Down the stairs she went, gratified to hear Ruby behind her. For a moment, she'd actually thought the girl wouldn't follow.

 

"If you brought me down here to have sex, it's not going to happen," Ruby said at the bottom of the stairs. "I don't think it's gonna happen for a while."

 

"No, nothing like that. I wanted to show you my collection." Regina went to the door Ruby had never asked about—not after her first taste of the lash—and put her code in its keypad. Despite herself, Ruby was curious. She craned to see over Regina's shoulder. When Regina stepped inside, she followed her in.

 

It was quite the homey space, for a room neighboring a collection of sex toys. There was a cot and a chair and that was it for furniture. The rest were museum exhibits—at least, what looked like museum exhibits. There was the black diamond in bulletproof glass. The spinning wheel, still with gold straw hanging from it. And the spindle. Not one of Regina's, but she could always appreciate good vengeance.

 

"What is this?" Ruby asked. "A yard sale waiting to happen?"

 

"This is all the magic that exists on this world. I brought it with me. Souvenirs, you might say. You just never know when some of these things might come in handy."

 

"Magic," Ruby repeated. "C'mon, Regina. So you have a fancy dildo. That doesn't mean you're Harry Potter."

 

"Ruby, please listen. It's important that you understand… I'm showing you this for a reason." Regina reached out to stroke Ruby's face. The girl colored, just a little. "This magic is very powerful. But the most powerful of all is love." She took hold of Ruby's face now, feeling the war within her. Desire versus caution. "True love, Ruby."

 

She kissed her.

 

And, as they kissed, she backed Ruby into Maleficent's spindle.

 

"Oww!" Ruby cried, grabbing her ass. "What'd you do that for?"

 

"Symmetry," Regina said. "It seems all our problems must stem from me putting things in your ass."

 

Ruby put her hands on her hips, a savage comment coming, but her hands missed her hips and all that came from her mouth was babble. She stuttered, her eyes blinking rapidly.

 

"Have you ever slept so deeply that you don't age?" Regina asked. "Slept too deeply for hunger to reach you, or dreams, or even death itself?"

 

Ruby stumbled, her legs refusing to work. "What'd you—" She yawned before she could finish asking what was wrong.

 

Regina took hold of her wayward charge, one more time. Guiding her to bed, one more time. "I must be getting mellow in my old age. I suppose it'd be just as fitting to rip your heart out, you having tried to do the same to me, but that's started to seem a little vulgar. This way, I can see your pretty face whenever I want to. No magic ring required."

 

Ruby eked one more protest as Regina laid her down, then her eyes closed forever. Regina tended to her immediately. Pulled off her shoes, removed her clothes, tucked her in, even sang her a short lullaby. Then she went to rinse the dishes.

 

There was only so long something could be put off.


	26. Chapter 26

 

The first day, everyone assumed Ruby was sleeping off a bender or shacking up with someone in an impromptu love nest. She’d never disappeared for a whole day before—usually she just turned up late for work, a coy smile on her face. But if you also assumed she had fought with Granny, as she almost always did, then it made sense she would punish her like that.

 

The second day, Granny cracked. She stopped making noises about hiring a more reliable waitress and started calling Ruby’s friends. None of them had seen or heard from her. Finally, Granny called Sheriff Graham, and he checked out her room. His search turned up a letter under the sheets of her meticulously made bed, where only a thorough search would’ve found it. It had her fingerprints on it, though it was a print-out rather than handwriting. The letter told Granny that Ruby needed some air, she was going out of town for a few weeks, and not to worry.

 

The missing girl was unmissed so quickly that it didn’t even make the newspaper.

 

The third day, Emma went to Regina’s house. She broke in—if you could call it that when you had a key—and looked through the house. All the empty rooms, some with pleasant memories attached. How Regina looked in a certain ensemble, how she felt when she touched Emma a certain way. A queasy kind of arousal descended on Emma. She had to try hard to shake it off.

 

She was at the door to the basement when she heard Regina’s voice.

 

“You really should call before you show up here,” Regina said, gently reprimanding yet still sounding pleased at Emma’s presence. “Imagine if I had company. Not everyone I’m friends with is up for being… double-teamed, I believe is the expression?”

 

Emma looked at her. More beautiful than ever, her smile brighter than ever, her dress more perfect than ever. It was like she’d taken some goddamn elixir. “What happened to Ruby?”

 

“She left town.” Regina dropped her head sympathetically. “I miss her too, Emma.”

 

“You did something—“

 

“Emma,” Regina cautioned.

 

“I told her how you lied to her and she just disappeared! _What happened?_ ”

 

Regina shrugged eloquently. “It sounds like you told her something she wasn’t ready to hear.”

 

Emma bit her lip. “She wouldn’t have just run away! She would’ve come here and talked to you.”

 

“And you know this from being her friend… how long?” Regina went into the kitchen, gesturing for Emma to follow. Feeling sullen, Emma lingered in the doorway. She watched as Regina got out a bottle of wine. “I loved her. It wasn’t a fairy tale relationship, true… in every partnership, someone has to take the lead and someone has to follow. I knew what Ruby was ready to hear and what she wasn’t. What would put her mind at ease and what would aggravate her.” Casually, Regina popped the cork out. She dribbled the spilling foam into the sink. “You should’ve trusted me.”

 

“You mean helped you manipulate her.”

 

“You liked it. She liked it. What’s the harm?”

 

“Harm!” Emma coughed the word out like bad air. “She believed you and you _lied_ to her. Isn’t that enough?”

 

“Everyone lies, my dear.”

 

“Except for you.” Emma managed a smile. “Right now, about Ruby.”

 

Regina sipped her wine from the bottle, resentfully making Emma wait for her rebuttal. “Why would I lie? Do you think I have her buried under the floorboards? Have I gone from abusive girlfriend to murderess so quickly in your eyes? Why? Have I not bought you anything expensive lately?”

 

Emma leaned against the doorframe. “You just seem awfully defensive for someone with nothing to hide.”

 

“And who doesn’t get defensive when attacked?” Regina landed the wine bottle on the counter with a thud. “Come here, Emma.” Her voice melted like ice cream. “Let me hold you. I don’t want to fight anymore. C’mon. I’ve always treated you like an adult. So let’s talk about this that way.”

 

Emma looked at Regina. She looked saddened, some from Ruby’s disappearance, some from Emma’s accusations. It made her seem older. Especially her eyes. Suddenly, they were dim and quiet. Was this the real Regina, or was it the joyful goddess she’d stumbled on earlier?

 

What a dumb thought. Of course it was the real Regina. When had Regina ever not been real with her?

 

She went to Regina, who took her in her arms and kissed her scalp repeatedly.

 

“I miss her too,” Regina whispered in her ear. “But we still have each other.”

 

“Aren’t you worried?” Emma asked. She felt the strange sensation of Regina untucking her shirt, drawing it out of her jeans. “That note could’ve been faked. No one’s seen her alive since… since me.”

 

“She’s _fine_ ,” Regina assured her with a tight hug. “When was the last time someone died in Storybrooke? Or even had an accident? I run a tight ship, Emma. Ruby just left. She’s a grown woman and she made her choice.”

 

Emma broke away from her. Worry filled her; she couldn’t shoot it at Regina anymore. She steepled her arms on the counter to hold herself still. “We should at least talk to the Sheriff. Tell him… what happened. Between us. It might help.”

 

“That’s your mother talking,” Regina said dismally. “Do you have any idea what this would do my career? Or to you, Emma? You have no idea how dangerous it is to want something that society doesn’t want for you.”

 

“A minute ago you told me nothing bad ever happens in Storybrooke, now you’re worried about a lynch mob?”

 

“I’m worried about _you._ ” Regina rubbed Emma’s back. Almost involuntarily, Emma felt the stress being stolen from her. “I’m trying to guide you, Emma. To take care of you. Isn’t that what you want? Isn’t it what we both want? Just listen to me. Just do as Mommy says and everything will turn out alright. Just you and me. The way it should’ve been. The queen and her princess.”

 

Emma broke from the counter, turning so fast she knocked Regina’s hand away. “If you won’t tell the Sheriff, I will.”

 

And Regina burst out laughing.

 

Emma faltered for a moment, in the face of the smile that stayed frozen on the Mayor’s face after the initial giggling, but then she rallied. “Something funny?”

 

“Oh… _Emma._ My dear, sweet, innocent little child.” Regina gathered Emma’s face in her hands. “Do you really think the Sheriff of Storybrooke is going to believe you and your BFF were having a ménage a trois with the Mayor? Now you’re just being foolish.”

 

Emma pointed a finger at her. It felt dangerous. Like a weapon. “You did something. You… _planned_ this. This is all some kind of… it’s a game to you!”

 

“You know what I think?” Regina’s fingers quickened to Emma’s belt, undoing the buckle with a delicious sound. “I think those teenage hormones are raging out of control. I took you some places you weren’t ready for and you don’t know how to deal with it, short of inventing some truly spectacular conspiracy theory. Come on. Let’s go to bed. We can kiss and cuddle and in the morning…”

 

Emma slapped her hands away before the feeling got too good. She backed up, holding her pants up with one hand. “Keep your hands off me!”

 

“—this will all seem like a bad dream,” Regina finished. “You’re making this very difficult, Emma. I thought you loved me.”

 

“I do… I did…” Emma was quick to reassure her, even when she didn’t know what she was reassuring her _of_. “You’re lying to me and I thought you weren’t like that!”

 

“You want me to be honest with you?” Regina smiled, her mayoral smile, perfect and charming and beautiful. “You have a fear of abandonment a mile wide, had it ever since your father _left_ to be in a coma. And now Ruby’s left too and you can’t deal with it like an adult, so you’re pushing me away before I can push you away. But I would _never_ push you away, Emma.” Regina’s smile sweetened, just for Emma. “I’ll always be with you. If you’ll just have me. Why won’t you have me?”

 

Emma shook her head. “I don’t wanna see you anymore.”

 

“Yes you do.” Regina undid a button on her dress. Her cleavage was hinted at, promised to. “You’re thinking of seeing me right now.

 

“No,” Emma said, begged, thinking of those long fingers all over her and those lips almost inside her.

 

Like magic, Regina covered the distance between them and had Emma bent down almost across the counter, her lips inches away. “You are mine,” she said sweetly, and kissed Emma.

 

It was almost shocking. Emma felt blissful heat erupt in her, all Regina’s formidable skill concentrated on her touch, her presence, almost physically forcing Emma to feel as she wanted her to feel. Emma wanted nothing more than to shuck her clothes and abandon herself to Regina’s tender mercy.

 

But she couldn’t. Because wasn’t that what Ruby had done?

 

Emma wrenched herself away, tasting the almost coppery tang of Regina’s lipstick on her mouth. She stumbled for the door, hearing the click of Regina’s heels behind her.

 

She looked back only once, seeing that Regina had finished unbuttoning her dress. It was open, and beneath, her body was there and perfect and _Emma’s_ , if only Emma went back, if only she stopped and allowed the tidal wave to overtake her.

 

Emma ran.

 

And behind her, Regina smiled a little, sighed a little. Poured herself a little wine.

 

“I suppose the game’s afoot,” she said to herself.

 

***

 

Graham handed the man’s license back to him. “Everything seems in order. Sorry for the trouble.”

 

“No trouble at all,” the man replied, leaning back in relief. “Mind if I ask why you stopped me?”

 

“It’s just that we don’t get many visitors here in Storybrooke. I was wondering if you’d made a wrong turn; needed some help getting back on the highway.”

 

“Nah. I do believe I’m right where I need to be.” The man tucked his license back in his jacket pocket.

 

“Well then, hope you enjoy your stay. There’s a nice bed and breakfast about town square if you’ll be with us for the night. Can’t miss it. And by the way—that is a very nice bike, Mr. Booth.”

 

“Please, call me August. I think I will be staying a while.”


	27. Chapter 27

A week since she’d last seen Regina and Emma felt like the relationship had happened to another person. For Christ’s sake, she’d been having threesomes and playing Marquis de Sade games. Who _was_ that? Was it something she’d wanted all along or things Regina had… placed in her, with the force of her personality, with all her charm and beauty and power and presence? Emma didn’t know who she’d been with Regina. And now she wasn’t quite sure who she was without her. How far she’d changed.

 

Granny had barely hung up a Help Wanted sign in the diner’s window before Emma took up Ruby’s old job. It felt right, somehow. Maybe it just kept her busy. Stopped her from combing over memories of Regina for the charge she still got out of them, a smoker in love with nicotine patches.

 

She didn’t know what Ruby had been complaining about. Aside from tending Regina’s gardens, and all the side benefits that entailed, it was the best job Emma had ever had. Granny was tough but fair, the customers were always understanding and patient, and it wasn’t like taking orders was rocket science. Most times, Emma didn’t even need the pad and paper.

 

She still didn’t know what to do with herself, how to sever or heal her lingering connection with Regina. And when she had nothing else to fixate on—when she was in the shower or in bed—she felt the shadow of Regina fall over her. She craved Regina’s voice. And she didn’t even dare think about Regina’s touch. The last time she had, she’d started touching herself. The orgasm had been both mindblowing and achingly short of the adventures Regina had taken her on.

 

Emma was working at the diner when she thought _Holy crap, am I gay?_ That was the last thing she remembered going through her mind before she saw Regina.

 

The Mayor was dressed demurely, in a masculinely dark suit that concealed her from neck to toe like a knife in a sheath. When Emma’s thoughts of Regina were all NC-17, seeing her in a business world hijab was just… tantalizing.

 

Regina took a seat in a booth, sweeping her long legs under the table, and crooked her finger at Emma. Mouth dry, Emma went to her, and shoved a menu in her face. Regina amusedly parried it out of the way. “Ms. Lucas, mind if I borrow your waitress for a moment?”

 

“Hell, not like she’s doing all that much anyway,” Granny replied across the counter. “Just be sure you tip her for whatever you’re doing.”

 

Regina turned her smile back to Emma. “I remember the old waitress used to show me her pussy for a fiver. That’s just good service.”

 

Talk like that fired Emma up, but also made it easy for her to be humorless. “What do you want, Regina?”

 

“Simply to talk. I miss you. I thought I could be the bigger woman and extend an olive branch.”

 

“Keep your damn olive branch!”

 

Regina rolled her eyes, Emma looking around to see if her outburst had attracted attention.

 

“I would’ve hoped you’d given up on this childish flight of fancy and admitted to yourself that I had nothing to do with Ruby leaving. She made her choice. That’s all.”

 

“And what about you going all ‘nobody would ever believe you’?” Emma asked. “You sounded like the murderer on an episode of CSI.”

 

Regina’s obvious irritation with Emma reached the point of amusement. She smiled. “As hard as this may be for you to believe, I was protecting you from yourself. Do you have any idea what your little expose would’ve done to you? I would’ve survived it; you, I fear, would’ve taken the hit.”

 

“As long as it got Ruby back.”

 

Regina’s voice dropped dangerously. “She’s gone! If she wants to come back, that’s entirely up to her! I don’t know why you feel this need to punish me for her decisions.”

 

“Yeah. I’m punishing you. There’s a change.”

 

Regina grabbed up the menu and very pointedly set it in front of her face. “I might as well have the eggs. It’s obvious that’s all I can expect out of this visit,” she said from behind it.

 

Emma pulled the menu down. “Fine! Can I get you a drink with that!?”

 

“Tea,” Regina replied. “And don’t pretend you have more than one kind.”

 

Emma got up from the booth and went to deliver her order. She was stopped by a hand bunched on her apron. She turned to see Regina rubbing the material between her fingers. It was easy to see she was picturing some perverted use of it. And it was getting easier for Emma to push that out of her mind.

 

“Emma,” Regina said finally. “Have you considered that this is a good thing for us? I know you resented having to… ‘share me’ with Ruby. And I treated you like I treated her, which wasn’t fair to you. I know the things we did before you came along were tempting, but that doesn’t mean they were right for you. This is a chance to start over. Explore each other anew. We can go on dates, even. Nice, normal, public dates. Give people a chance to get used to us. Let them whisper about it. In a few years, they’ll be used to the idea. We can have a future together. That’s all I want. Just someone to love.”

 

Emma looked her dead in the eyes. They never seemed quite so sincere as when she was fucking someone halfway to death. Compared to that, this was just dinner theater.

 

“I’m finding it harder and harder to believe you loved me. You only ever said just what you needed to get me to do what you wanted. Just like with Ruby. Only she really did love you, and when she realized you didn’t love her back—what? What happened that night?”

 

Regina was venomously silent. Emma leaned in, like she was increasing the magnification on a microscope. Examining some strange specimen. “Am I pissing you off, Madame Mayor?”

 

“If and when you piss me off, you’ll know it,” she replied caustically.

 

“No doubt. A lot of people you love seem to go away. Did they piss you off too?”

 

Regina blinked slow, suddenly reminding Emma of a reptile. “Well, Emma. If you wanted to hurt me, you’ve succeeded. So I think I’ll leave before, unlike you, I say something I regret.”

 

“So you’d like that order to go then?”

 

The next thing Emma heard from Regina was the bell ringing as she barged out the door. Breathing out her frustration, Emma collected the menu and moved on. A new customer had sat down up front and she didn’t recognize him.

 

“Afternoon, stranger,” she said in her best TV Land voice. “What can I get you?”

 

“Coffee, for now.” He extended his hand as if to shake. It took a moment for Emma to realize he was gesturing for the menu. She gave it to him. _Handsome fellow,_ Emma thought. And _maybe I’m not that gay after all._

Emma hustled off to return with a mug and saucer, dropping the appropriate condiments around in their little cups. Some ended up in his lap. She took an automatic step back as he fished them up, found which one of them was the creamer, and added it in.

 

“Regina Mills,” the stranger said, taking a look out the window as a familiar car sped off. “She hasn’t changed a bit.”

 

Emma was unable to hide her surprise. “You know her? I thought you were new around here.”

 

“Oh, I am. Or, I was. It’s a long story. Before your time.” He took off his sunglasses and set them on the side of the table, beside the hook of an umbrella. His eyes were the color of old mahogany. Emma looked away from them. “August Wayne Booth. If you don’t recognize the name, relax. It just means you have poor taste in literature.”

 

It took Emma a second to decipher that. “You’re a writer?”

 

He smiled crookedly. “You can say that with a straight face! More than I ever managed. Yeah, I…” He dug into (what looked like) a doctor’s bag atop another chair, coming up with a thick and well-sized volume that reminded her of the anthologies her father used to read to her. Just So Stories and the like. This one just said ‘Once Upon A Time’. “Wrote this.”

 

“Nice work on the title,” she said sarcastically.

 

“Swan!” Granny cried. “If he ain’t proposed marriage yet, it’s not happening! Get his order and move on!”

 

“I’ll just have some toast!” August yelled back. “Besides, she hasn’t found out if I’m enjoying my coffee yet.”

 

“Have you even taken a sip?” Emma whispered.

 

“All in good time.” He watched closely as Granny disappeared back into the kitchen, then pushed the book toward her. “Take a look. I based it on this little town.”

 

Emma picked up the book and flipped through it. “Really? I’m pretty sure we don’t have any dragons in this area code.”

 

“Not that you know of.”

 

Reaching the end of the book, Emma flipped backward. “Is Regina in here? Who is she?”

 

“Check the illustrations, if you really can’t figure it out.”

 

“I get fifteen minute breaks. I don’t have time to play Where’s Waldo.”

 

“Then keep it.” August picked up his coffee and took a gulp. Emma wondered if that meant he’d said what he’d meant to say.

 

Emma tucked the book under her arm. “Just so you know, that gets you a free refill in your coffee, not into my pants.”

 

“Shame. Your coffee isn’t much to write home about.”

 

Emma patted the book. “Neither is this town. Didn’t stop you the last time.”

 

“Oh, I think you’ve be very interested to find out what a good writer can uncover in a small town. That’s why I’m thinking of writing a sequel. Sort of a ‘Storybrooke: The Next Generation’ thing.”

 

“You want a story?” Emma asked. “Ruby Lucas. Ask around.”

 

August glanced up at her, surprised. All she gave him was a tight nod. He finished his coffee. “Mind if I get a rain check on that refill? I’ve got someplace to be.”

 

“Is there something happening in Storybrooke?” Emma asked, exaggeratedly wide-eyed. “That would be worth memorializing.”

 

August replaced his sunglasses and picked up the umbrella. When he rested his weight on it, Emma saw it was a cane. She was suddenly very glad she hadn’t taken any quips in that direction.

 

“Wooden leg,” August told her, painstakingly getting to his feet. “Never get into a hotel hot tub with a cut on your leg. You in here tomorrow?”

 

“I’m in here every day. We’re not much for variety in Storybrooke.”

 

“I’ve noticed. I’m gonna want to know what you think of the book; don’t disappoint me. And let me know if you figure out who Regina is.”

 

“Well, that’s obvious.” Emma tried to think of something biting, but all that came out was “She’s one of the princesses, right?”

 

August just smiled at her. “Something like that.”


	28. Chapter 28

Emma couldn’t sleep, too busy poring over the stories again and again. Her eyes demanded every reference to Regina. Or her other name. The Evil Queen.

 

This is ridiculous, she told herself. Her mind told her that her Regina had nothing to do with some hack writer’s two-dimensional Big Bad. Was she so desperate to know who Regina really was that she’d look for clues in someone’s Roman à clef?

 

Yes. Yes, she was.

 

She fell asleep on the book, atop an illustration of the Evil Queen, and had to be woken by her mother to get to her shift on time. A part of her wasn’t surprised to find August waiting for her at the diner. But she didn’t have time to talk to him, not during the morning rush. It wasn’t until noon, when Granny went on break to watch Guiding Light, that August got up from his booth and followed her into the kitchen.

 

“Hey!” she said, pointing at him with one dish-gloved hand. “Employees only. Didn’t you see the sign?”

 

“There’s no sign. I checked.”

 

“Well, there should be. What do you want, anyway?”

 

Granted access, August jumped up onto a crate of tomato sauce. “What’d you think of the book? Us authors are crazy about feedback.”

 

Emma shoved a stack of dirty dishes under the sink’s soapy water like she was drowning someone. “Didn’t care for your take on Regina. You never explained what made her… how she was. And the illustrations were lousy. They were just the Mayor, but better dressed.”

 

“Let’s focus on the writing,” August suggested. “Ya know, some people are just villains. Everything else is trivia. Do you really care that Emperor Palpatine used to be a senator from Naboo?”

 

“I don’t believe that.”

 

“Oh, you think he immigrated?”

 

“I don’t think Regina is some monster!”

 

August snitched a French fry from a meal someone hadn’t finished. “It’s only a story.”

 

Emma pulled her freshly scrubbed dishes up and dropped them into the rinse sink. “You want literary criticism, I want clean dishes. I’ll wash, you dry.”

 

August picked up a plate, eyed it dubiously, and started wiping it off. “So if Regina’s such a winner, why do you think she had something to do with Ruby’s disappearance?”

 

She boggled at him, but it was more annoyance than outrage. “What makes—“

 

“Come on. I’m a writer. Credit me with some imagination.” He set the dish down to punctuate his point.

 

“I don’t think… I don’t know what I think. But I know Regina’s lying to me.”

 

“And you trusted her?” August sounded amused.

 

Emma shoved a wet bowl into his shirt. “And how is this your business?” she asked as he wiped.

 

“My question exactly,” Regina said.

 

She took in the pair’s reaction to her sudden appearance, pleased with herself through her poker face. Her eyes fell first on Emma, a quick search that made her ears burn, then took in August for the first time. She pulled the dish away from him. “Streaks, Mr. Booth. We must be more careful.” She wet the bowl and wiped it over again. “I suppose I’ve been remiss in not welcoming you to Storybrooke. I’m Mayor Mills. Of course you’ve met my young friend Emma. A shining example of our town’s future.”

 

August casually wiped his hands on his jeans. “Yeah, she’s a good _kid_.” He put so light an emphasis on the word that Emma wondered if she’d imagined it. “Representative of your whole community thing. I’ve been to a lot of small towns and I don’t think I’ve ever been welcomed by the Mayor before.”

 

“Well, I just hope everyone appreciates my personal touch.”

 

August glanced significantly at Emma. “Maybe some people don’t like being touched.”

 

Just as significantly, Regina did not. “Then maybe they don’t belong here. This is a community. We all support the home team.”

 

“No wonder Miss Lucas left,” August shot back with a smile. “Not a sports fan.”

 

Regina placed herself between Emma and August, gently setting the bowl aside and taking another from Emma to dry. “You don’t have to be a fan to be on the same side. You just have to stay out of the way. Of course, that is difficult for some people. They ask why we need a sports team and not a museum, or a park, or a statue. Small town politics. It’s annoying for everyone. I’m sure it’s untoward of me, but I tend to think of this town as my personal property. I don’t like people messing with my property.”

 

“What the hell are all of you doing in my kitchen?” Granny demanded, returning from her break with a vengeance. “Emma, didn’t you tell ‘em customers aren’t allowed back here?”

 

“There wasn’t a sign,” Emma said lamely.

 

Granny waved her hands. “Scoot! All of ya! Emma, get those dishes done! Unless you can get the zoning board off my ass, I ain’t paying ya to hobnob with the Mayor!”

 

Regina rather bemusedly left, August lingering a moment before shrugging on his way. Emma was left having no idea what had really been said, if anything.

 

In the diner, Regina had found a seat quickly enough to look perfectly poised. She gestured for him.

 

“Sit.”

 

He slid into the booth across from her. “I’m really not planning to start any trouble. Don’t let the motorcycle fool you. I’m just a humble writer. The worst I can do is make a joke about this place in my next book.”

 

“Well, your nose isn’t growing. That’s a good sign.” Regina picked up the menu. “Everything here is so good… I have such a hard time choosing.”

 

He smiled at her and picked up his own. “You put your cards on the table a lot faster these days, your majesty.”

 

“I have less patience.”

 

“That’s odd, considering you have so much time on your hands.”

 

“Isn’t it, though?” She dropped the menu. “Let’s keep it simple. Care to split a key lime pie? I always love them, but I never can find the right occasion. Great for my weight, pity for my taste buds.”

 

“Sure. Key lime it is. How’d you recognize me?”

 

“You’re the spitting image of your, ah, sculptor. Back in the day. I guess there was a little narcissism at work when he carved you. I have to say, I approve.”

 

“I’m not the only one here who’s grown up a spitting image. Emma’s looking well—nice of you to let her keep her real name. ‘Mary-Margaret’… weren’t the cardigans punishment enough?”

 

Regina’s eyes narrowed just a fraction. “That’s my business. Why are you here, puppet? I’ve won. Even if you killed me, it wouldn’t break the curse. And I wouldn’t recommend trying that. It didn’t go well for the last person.”

 

“Relax. I’m not here to spoil your re-election campaign.”

 

Granny came by, still shaking her head over her new waitress’s foolishness. With no one else in the diner, she took their orders personally, and went back behind the counter. August took a flask from his jacket and swallowed one precise gulp.

 

“The princess and Red Riding Hood,” he muttered. “You really are a cougar.”

 

“Says the man with his passport stamped for Thailand. But I’m sure you were just there for the cooking.”

 

August tilted another gulp into his mouth. “I see you still have the keys to the city. Touché. Still, it’s a bit petty, isn’t it? All of this just for a lay?”

 

“Tell that to Snow White’s father.”

 

“I’d rather not talk to him any time soon.”

 

“Really? I’m fine either way. What’d you tell the princess?”

 

August leaned back in his seat. “The truth. At least, my half of it. But then, writers always lie.”

 

Regina leaned almost across the table, as if pursuing him. “ _You’re not Neil Gaiman._ Drop your pretension and answer the question.”

 

“I told her a fairy tale. That’s all.”

 

Regina stayed bent over the table, her arms folded under her, staring at him as if completing a scan. She only moved when Granny came to drop off the pie. Then she helped herself to a large slice.

 

“I trust you’re still not aghast at indulgence?”

 

He accepted graciously when she cut him an equally large slice. “I’m a man of the world. I’ve seen far worse fates than spending eternity in your little… model train set. So no, I won’t be getting my violin out for your sex slave anytime soon.”

 

Regina raised an eyebrow at his term, but held her tongue. She sensed he was coming to the crux of the matter.

 

“I came here,” he continued, holding his fork but not moving it, “for a cure. Knock on wood.” And he tapped his wooden leg.

 

“Getting in touch with your inner child, I see.”

 

“As you can imagine, I don’t want it going any higher. Believe me, I tried every quack from here to there. The closest I got was another ‘immigrant’ in Tallahassee. So you’re my only option. And I figure helping me is a small price to pay for keeping ripples out of the water.”

 

“Threats?” Regina helped herself to a small bite of pie before continuing. “Not the choice I would’ve made.”

 

“I’m open to exchanges. Need a storybook written?”

 

“As a matter of fact…” Regina waited as August took a gluttonous bite. Then she smiled at him. “I want you to tell Emma another story. My story.”

 

He laughed as he helped himself to the glass of milk that came with the pie. “You really care what she thinks of you?”

 

“She’s not like the others. Not entirely.”

 

August nearly choked on his milk. “What, now you’re in love with her? Come on. Even fiction has its limits.”

 

“Your thoughts on the matter aren’t part of the arrangement. Don’t give them away for free. Perhaps in another eighteen years, they’ll be worth something.”

 

“It’s your dime, honey. Just name the tune.”


	29. Chapter 29

_Once upon a time, there was an evil queen._

_But her story doesn’t start with her, because it’s not her story. Not really. It started with her mother’s story, and that started with the story of a creature called the Dark One, and that was once the story of a man named Rumpelstiltskin…_

 

Emma was on break, August had his hash browns. He watched her read as he ate and aside from the occasional annoyed glance she cast his way, Emma tolerated it. So August saw her face set in firm resolve, determined not to feel sympathy for this villain, and then how it melted with each page she turned. The first thing exposed was horror. August and his writing skills couldn’t take any credit for that. The true story was bad enough that August had practically taken down Regina’s childhood memories word for word.

 

Then, a small smile of relief on her face as Emma read about Regina meeting Daniel. Regina hadn’t wanted to share that part, August had seen the discomfort in her bones, but she’d done it. Reeling off emotionless facts for him to elaborate on like they were magic words, needing to be said for the spell to work.

 

Now Emma’s face fell with the same dread August had felt writing, knowing that it wouldn’t end well. The end came fast; Regina hadn’t lingered on their affair. August could tell when Emma reached that page. She wiped at her eyes without tears. Then, that pity was replaced by a different dread, as Regina finally learned what her mother, Rumpelstiltskin, the world itself seemed to be teaching her.

 

When Regina banished her mother, Emma sighed in tiny catharsis. But as she read on, it was buried by mounting frustration. Second chance after second chance, revenge after revenge, failure after failure, Regina never learned. She just kept digging herself deeper until she’d finally made room to drag everyone else down with her. That’s when Emma cried. Not for what had been done to Regina. For what she’d done to herself.

 

His next sip discovered that his coffee had grown cold. August left it to freeze and went to Emma’s table, where he picked up his manuscript, shuffled it into order, and sat down with her. She blotted her tears away with wadded up napkins. “How much of that was true?”

 

“All of it. But if you’re asking how much was real…”

 

“God, you really do think you’re Neil Gaiman, don’t you?” Emma blew her nose. “Does she know you’re showing me this?”

 

“It was her idea.”

 

Emma steepled her hands on her head, leaning on her elbows. She talked in staccato bursts. “Jesus.” Then: “She probably made it up so she’d look good.” Then: “No, she wouldn’t do all that. Not with a metaphor.” Then: “How’d she sound?”

 

“You mean, did she talk about her fiancé’s death like she was ordering iced tea? No.” He put his papers away in his jacket. “Obviously, her mom didn’t really kill her boyfriend. He got sick, insurance wouldn’t cover it, her mom was rich but didn’t approve of the match… the rest is just how she felt about things. Hurting people.”

 

“That part I believe.” Emma blew a strand of hair out of her face. “Not that she would, I mean, but that she’d be capable of—or think she’d be capable—shit.” Emma’s knuckles went white as her fingers pressed in on her skull. “What kind of person can only communicate through fairy tales?”

 

“Most people, I think. You know, people say they hate clichés. I find them comforting. The villain never shoots the hero in the head. The girlfriend never screws the Laundromat guy for no reason. In real life, everything’s messy and nothing’s simple. A story can be simple. Good guys and bad guys and morals and endings. Love is hard. Love stories are easy.”

 

“Maybe Regina makes things difficult.”

 

“That too,” he conceded.

 

Emma took her hands off her head, set them on the table, and pushed herself up. “Everyone gave up on her, at one point or another. No one really fought for her. However much of her story is bullshit, that’s an awful way to feel.”

 

***

 

Regina felt much more at ease in her dungeon these days. There’d been a time recently when she’d found something bracing about that familiar stone. But now she loved what it reminded her of. And her tea smelled as sweet as ever.

 

“I’ve demolished worlds,” she told Ruby. “Reconstructed lives. Sacrificed love and commanded armies. Next to that, a tea that lets two people share dreams is like nothing. Not even any two people, at that. Two people in love, or meant to be that way. But now Emma’s stopped drinking it, and I’ve stopped remembering my dreams.”

 

Ruby said nothing. She was sleeping so gently that even her breathing was silent. She just laid with her head in Regina’s lap, her soft hair Regina’s to pet. The perfect lapdog.

 

“The two of us were never that close, but I’d like to think we shared a few, ah—wet dreams. But that’s all past us. We need to look to the future.”

 

Regina brought the tea to Ruby’s lips and tilted it sweetly down her throat. In her sleep, Ruby drank as contentedly as a baby at the teat.

 

“It was great fun rearing you, but you’re a woman now. And isn’t it every mother’s dream to see her girl married well?” Regina’s cell phone rang, jolting her enough to spill the tea. She wiped it off Ruby’s chin as she answered. “Mayor Mills.”

 

“It’s me.” Emma.

 

Regina breathed deep. This made her feel even more comfortable than the dungeon, in a completely disconcerting way. “I wasn’t expecting you to call.”

 

“But you were hoping.”

 

The words lunged out of Regina’s throat. “I always hope.”

 

The line was silent for a long moment. The dungeon suddenly seemed colder than usual. “No you don’t. You thought you’d lost me forever, like all the others.”

 

Regina gathered herself. Even over the phone, it was important to project a serenity, a tranquil fury. She spoke as gently as she would giving an interview. “Then you read Mr. Booth’s story.”

 

“You wanted me to.” Emma’s voice was not bitter, not sympathetic. “Aren’t you used to getting what you want?”

 

Regina’s voice was not remorseful and not proud. “I’m really not.”

 

“No, I guess not.” Another long silence, but it wasn’t so bad this time. At least she knew Emma was still there. “Was it really so hard to just tell me the truth?”

 

“Look in a mirror. Tell me how easy it’d be to see the look on your face.”

 

A shockingly quick laugh. “I’m not giving you the stinkeye, I promise.”

 

“But the smile you used to have—I miss the way you looked at me. You saw me as so… good.” Regina hated herself in that moment. Hated how honest she could be.

 

“You are good. Everyone just told you you were bad until you believed them. If you just had someone to tell you that you weren’t…”

 

Regina committed to the course she’d taken, giving Emma what she wanted. “I had someone. She reminded me every day. Emma, if someone as beautiful and as pure as you could love me—every second of every day, I knew there was something to love.”

 

Emma’s breath could be heard over the phone. Amplified by the connection, it sounded like howling wind over a desert plain. “I can’t be your someone anymore, Regina.”

 

Regina shook. She wanted to rail, to beg, to threaten, to cajole. But no, no. She had to remain calm. She had to just… dislodge these cancerous words from inside her and wrench them out. “I know, I know. I just wanted to thank you for however long you were. I’ve built a good life here. I love being Mayor. I loved what I had with Ruby. But being with you was… you’re the first person who ever made me feel like I wasn’t the Evil Queen.”

 

And at last, Emma’s voice was sympathetic. Loving. “You don’t need me to feel that way.” Regina could’ve listened to the care in those words for hours. Lived in that brief moment when Emma was almost hers.

 

“But I do need you.” Regina gripped the tea cup tightly in her hand, savoring its warmth. _Dreams_ , she thought, staring at her reflection in the dark liquid. “Giving me the stinkeye yet, Emma?”

 

“No. No, I think I’m crying.”

 

“I tend to have that effect on people.” _Stop it,_ Regina thought to herself. _Stop it, stop it, stop it._ “Goodbye Emma. Thank you for understanding.”

 

“Goodbye Regina.” She really was crying.

 

As the line went dead, Regina looked down at Ruby. There was a smile on the girl’s face.

 

“Sweet dreams.”


	30. Chapter 30

Emma had sleepless dreams. They had nothing to do with Regina’s past, whatever it was—that would be too cliché. Instead she dreamed she was in a barren field, waiting to meet someone, she didn’t know who. Then she would become _aware_ of her heart in an alien way, feeling it beating. The blood pumping out of it. Then she’d feel it start to move. Pushing blood vessels and tissue and bone aside until it had emerged from her chest, dripping red and glowing fiercely, hovering in front of her _just out of reach_.

 

Then she woke up.

 

“C’mon, sweetie, get up. It’s ten AM already.”

 

Emma opened her eyes. Her mother was giving her a gentle shake. “Mom, it’s Saturday, I don’t have the diner—“ she said, garbled with sleep.

 

“Someone’s here to see you. Given who it is, I thought it best to wake up.”

 

Emma’s eyes popped open from where they’d been sliding shut. As Mary-Margaret backed off happily, Emma grabbed last Christmas’s present of a pink kimono (finally she was getting some use out of it) to throw on over her Ramones shirt and boxers. And as Mary-Margaret instinctively grabbed some dirty dishes to take downstairs, Emma rushed out of the bedroom.

 

Ruby was sitting in the living room, checking her phone.

 

The first thing Emma felt was disappointment. Half-asleep, she’d thought Regina had come to see her, maybe with an apology, something to say or do that would make everything better, even though she had no idea what possibly could. But then, wide awake, all she could think was—

 

“Ruby! You’re here!”

 

Ruby rose, ditching her phone on the couch. “Yeah, just got in. Bring it in, Blanchard.”

 

Emma came in for a hug, holding Ruby tightly. She was real—firm and soft and warm. Unbidden, Emma remembered the feel of her naked, the heat that was only slightly more intense than touching her through layers of cloth. She broke it off, flustered, adjusting her kimono.

 

“Nice threads,” Ruby said.

 

“I missed you. God.”

 

“Yeah. Same here. Sorry I bailed, I just—I had a lot of _stuff_ , you know? We’ll talk about it on the way.”

 

“On the way?” Emma looked up to see Mary-Margaret emerging from her bedroom, carting a load of dirty clothes under her arm. She whispered “Not Regina?”

 

“No, but there is someone I want you to meet. Get dressed. Hell, shower. I’ll see if I can con your mom into making me some bacon.”

 

Emma smirked at her. If Mary-Margaret’s firstborn couldn’t get that out of her… “Enjoy your vegetable smoothie.”

 

Marching to the shower, she was almost ashamed of the relief she was feeling. Had she really suspected Regina of dropping Ruby into the ocean with cement shoes or… something?

 

God, she’d made a mess of things.

 

Showered and dressed slightly more presentably (though still drawing Mary-Margaret’s disapproval; her jeans had one too many holes in them), she got into Ruby’s car. Only Ruby didn’t have a car. It was a red Cadillac convertible that shone brighter than the sun and Emma damn sure hadn’t seen it in any used car lot in town or she would’ve penciled in a weekend to drool over it.

 

“Tell me this isn’t Regina’s car,” Emma said, standing at the open passenger door like if she got in, the doors would lock from the outside.

 

“It’s a _friend’s,”_ Ruby grinned. “Me and Regina are done. And apparently, you have some trouble in paradise too?”

 

“I don’t know anymore. You were the trouble.”

 

Rather than be offended, as Emma thought she might be for a worried second ( _the shit that comes out of my mouth_ ), Ruby just chuckled. “Always am. Get _in_. We’ve got places to go, people to be.”

 

Emma climbed in, buckled her seatbelt—Ruby sniggered at that part—and held on as Ruby hit the gas. The neighborhood blurred by and Ruby hit the radio, spinning the dial until it landed at a Jay-Z song.

 

Emma turned it down to the level of a conversation on Downton Abbey. “Where were you, Ruby? What happened?”

 

Ruby shrugged. “Stuff!” She took a corner at hyperspeed, focusing her attention on the squeal of the wheels for a moment. “I _did_ text Regina before I got back, she mentioned you thought I was abducted by aliens or something?”

 

“Well, were you?”

 

“Nah. After you told me what you told me—thanks for that, by the way. Not your fault everything went the way it did. But after that, I went to see Regina and we talked. Long story short, we just didn’t have a real relationship. We were fuckbuddies, but that wasn’t a _thing_ , you know? And I was kinda treating it like a thing. So, once I realized I wanted an actual dumb relationship with dumb cooking and dumb cuddling, me and Reggie agreed to break things off.”

 

“And then what? You decided on a spa treatment?” Emma asked suspiciously.

 

Ruby glanced at her before getting her eyes back on the road. Her look was loaded. “Look, I’m not proud of myself. I didn’t want to face you or anyone else. I just needed to get out of this fucking town for a while, you know? _Breathe._ And there’s this person I’ve been chatting with online. She lives a few counties over and we’d been talking about meeting, I just never got around to it. So this seemed like a good time to get around to it.”

 

Emma let herself bask in the convertible’s gleaming chrome. “Well, your friend definitely has good taste in cars.”

 

“Yes, she has a very good taste,” Ruby agreed.

 

They wheeled into town square, screaming to a stop at the curb beside the old library. Lately, all it’d been good for was hanging up posters, so Emma was surprised to see they’d all been cleared off and the boards were gone from the windows and door.

 

“Wow. Storybrooke Public Library,” Emma glanced at a nearby bench. “I think I read most of the Harry Potters right here.” She looked at the door Ruby was leading her through. “I haven’t been in here since sneaking in in junior high to give handjobs.”

 

“Where do you give handjobs now?” Ruby asked her impishly.

 

“The diner. I took your old job.”

 

“Glad to see the legacy carried on. You can keep it, though. I found better work.”

 

Inside, the library had gotten even dustier and more cobwebbed than Emma remembered—but only part of it. A corner had been cleared out, some of the shelves replaced, others refurbished, and from the Pine-Sol and yellow janitorial buckets, someone intended to add to the clean-up. Boxes full of books were stacked along the wall, waiting to be indexed.

 

“You know how I love to read?” Ruby asked.

 

“Uh, _no_?”

 

“Just because I don’t want to read about some dumb girl romancing some dumb werewolf…” Ruby shook her head. “Anyway, seeing as the Mayor owed me one, I called in a favor. We’re reopening the library. There’s even going to be beanbags!”

 

“We?”

 

Ruby broke off her grin to look around. “She should be around here… oh! I know where she is! C’mon!”

 

Emma followed Ruby into the stairwell and up the library’s four floors, only having to clear a cobweb out of her hair once. They emerged onto the rooftop to find a sun chair set out between the skylights, a bikinied body lying on it. Well, almost-bikinied. Her top seemed to have slipped away, leaving the woman in just her sunglasses and straw hat above the waist. Admittedly, it was a nice hat.

 

“Belle, I told you I was bringing over company,” Ruby complained good-naturedly, holding her hand in front of Emma’s eyes. Emma batted it away.

 

“Yeah? You also said she was cute.” Belle had an Aussie accent, which made Emma wince. Knowing Storybrooke, she could expect Crocodile Dundee jokes for, oh, the next seven years.

 

Nice boobs, though. Emma tried not to stare. She went for a badass ‘making eye contact’ thing, but it was really hard when you had nipples pointed at you.

 

“Emma,” Ruby said seriously, “this is Lacey Bell.”

 

“Everyone calls me Belle.”

 

“Yeah, got that,” Emma replied. “Nice tan.”

 

“You guys don’t have a tanning salon.” Belle shrugged. “So, you guys bring the lubricant? I don’t have all day.”

 

“Uhhhhhh…” Emma said, which even for her was eloquent under the circumstances (she thought).

 

Not so good-naturedly, Ruby picked up a discarded shirt and tossed it to Belle, who sensed now would be a good time to put it on. “I mentioned our… acquaintance with the Mayor to my friend, which as you might’ve guessed was a huge mistake.”

 

“Nah, I’m cool with it,” Belle said through the collar of her shirt, before her head popped through. “In ten years, everyone’s going to be in a triple relationship anyway. It’s the only way to sustain our population, economically speaking.”

 

“She reads a lot,” Ruby explained. “Good thing for a town librarian.”

 

“Mmm-hmm. Can’t be a naughty librarian without knowing the Dewey Decimal System. I’ve got my hottie glasses on backorder.” Belle cracked her neck. “Look, I don’t really do small talk, so to get this out of the way: really gay, gay with Ruby, parents don’t like it, came here instead.”

 

Emma was breathing hard. Her mind was about a million miles away, going over everything she’d said to Regina, everything she’d accused her of. Ruby was fine. Better than fine, she had a slutty girlfriend. And Regina was… alone. All over again.

 

“I gotta go,” she said, rapid-fire.

 

“You don’t want to see the Reading is Fundamental posters we got?” Ruby asked. “You would not believe the shit they expect us to put up, it’s amazing.”

 

“No, I have—“ Emma winced. All this time. _All this time._ “Could you give me a ride to Regina’s?”

 

Belle raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t riding with Regina what led to—“

 

“Time and place,” Ruby told her shortly. “Alright, Emma, let’s go.” She paused after taking one step toward the door. “If you’re…”

 

“I’m sure,” Emma said confidently, not at all feeling it.


	31. Chapter 31

If there was one thing Regina regretted, it was allowing meetings into her prefect world. At first, they’d been novel. She sat at the head of a table while her hated enemies kowtowed to her, asking her opinion, begging her attention. But their capering soon wore on her. Only someone like Snow White could possibly enjoy this protracted egotism, a government of small children depending on her. She soon came to value _any_ interruption.

  
“Let me _in_!”

 

Let alone Emma Blanchard bursting onto the scene. Her white knight in jeans and a wrinkled Ramones tee, come to save her from smalltown politics.

 

“Regina… Madame Mayor… I need to talk to you.” She was out of breath, though Regina couldn’t imagine a need to sprint to get past Ralph the security guard. He was still plodding behind Emma, twenty feet down the hallway.

 

“My, that does sound urgent,” Regina drawled. She looked around the room. “Leave us.”

 

“Mayor Mills, we are discussing official town business!” Dr. Fackler objected.

 

Regina gave him her most friendly, icy smile. “I’m sure whatever has this young woman so concerned is more important than leash laws in Storybrooke Park. Good day.” It was the most overt dismissal imaginable.

 

The room cleared. Regina got up, went to the door, and locked it. Emma crossed over to the other side of the table from Regina, placing it between them.

 

“Well?” Regina prompted.

 

“Ruby’s back in town,” Emma said awkwardly, like she was sounding out words in a foreign language.

 

“Yes, I’m aware.” Regina picked a bit of lint off her jacket, betraying her nervousness.

 

Heartened—at least Regina was as off-balance as her—Emma pressed on. “Is there anything you want to say to me?”

 

Regina walked down the length of the table. Emma had never seen her move so slowly.

 

“It doesn’t change anything.” Regina said it bitterly, circling the head of the table. “I’m still who I am. You’re still who you are.”

 

“It changes _everything_!” Emma shot back. She forced herself to calm down, looking to the door as if someone would come back through. “Why’d you lie to me?”

 

Regina spread her arms wide, coming down Emma’s side of the table. “Ruby asked me to. She didn’t want you to blame yourself for what happened. And you shouldn’t. It’s my fault. I hurt her, and I hurt you.” She reached Emma, but seemingly couldn’t bear to have her hands free around her. She leaned on the table. “I’m not sorry that I kept my promise, but I am sorry I agreed to it. I should’ve made Ruby see how it would hurt you. Not being able to say goodbye.”

 

“You could’ve told me.” Emma put her hand on Regina’s shoulder. Just like when she’d touched Ruby, she ended up swimming in memories. Not of heat, though. Coolness. The feel of Regina’s skin as she held her, like touching ivory. Regina burned so cold… “You could’ve told me and things between us would’ve been so much simpler.”

 

“No, they wouldn’t have. I hurt the two of you. I hurt people a lot, when they give up on me or when I give up on them…” Belatedly, Regina shied away from Emma’s touch. “Look at you. You’re a child and I seduced you.”

 

Emma replaced her hand, this time on Regina’s face, keeping her from looking away. “I was very willing to be seduced.”

 

“Go home, Emma. Find someone your own age. Give that Scott fellow a second chance. I betrayed you far worse than he did.”

 

“But I don’t love him.”

 

Regina’s head hung. “I really hate hearing that word.”

 

“What, love? Because you think it’ll always bring pain?”

 

Regina looked her in the eye. “It _does_.”

 

“But isn’t it worth it? Aren’t _I_ worth it?”

 

Regina looked her in the eye… and smirked. “You sound like you’re proposing.”

 

Emma’s hand dropped away from Regina’s skin. “I just want to know where I stand.”

 

“Where you stand. I have feelings for you, Emma. I never lied about that. But they’re not… positive feelings. I have this—I have an _urge_ for you. I want to possess you. Keep you safe.” Regina shook her head, as if she were being dishonest with her last words. “Keep you _mine._ That’s not what I had with Daniel.”

 

“He didn’t want to possess you?” Emma persisted. “You didn’t want to be his?”

 

“Don’t you dare ask me that question.” Tears shone in Regina’s eyes, making Emma feel ashamed and strangely gratified. “I would’ve given _anything_ to be his… to be the wind on his back, even. But I couldn’t.”

 

“You gave your story to be mine,” Emma said quietly. She reached out to brush the tears from her eyes, but Regina was quicker than her. She backed away, scrubbing at her face like a stain. Emma pressed “I know how hard that is. I would love to talk about my dad, see if anything I remember about him is real or just old TV shows, but I know it would rip my heart out to ask. And my mother… God, mom… I can tell when she thinks about him. It’s like she’s swallowed poison. She just shrivels up…”

 

“I didn’t give you my story. I told a stranger and he made it into turgid prose and you read it. That’s not brave. That’s cowardly.”

 

Emma shook her head. “Then tell me now. Tell me and I’m yours.”

 

“Don’t… don’t…” Tears were invading Regina’s face again, but now she didn’t bother to wipe them away. “I’ll _hurt_ you. I won’t mean to, I won’t want to, but it will happen. I don’t have that thing that tells people how to take care of each other. I don’t have a heart.”

 

“Nothing could hurt me worse than losing you. These past few weeks, I hated you and it was _killing_ me. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep—now I’m back here and I’m so full, Regina. I’m so full of everything. You think you can’t trust me? You think you can’t let me in? Try. Please. For me.”

 

Regina reached behind her, groping for a moment before her hand lighted on a chair. She pulled it back and sat down. Before she spoke, she drew a tissue from her pocket and wiped her eyes. Emma took the tissue from her to throw away.

 

Regina started suddenly. “My mother abused me. I didn’t know how to handle that and I still don’t. I don’t know if I’m supposed to forgive her and love her, because some of me loves her, or if I’m supposed to just hate her completely. Some days I do that. My father let it happen. Same story there.” She wiped her eyes again, before tears could come. “I loved a man and he died. I took that out on everyone. It seemed like everyone else was winning and I kept losing, so I just kept… balancing the scales, and rebalancing, and rebalancing. It never made any difference. I just put more misery into the world. I’m so sorry for that. I’m so sorry I’m not worthy of you, Emma.”

 

Emma took her hand and held it tightly. Had Regina even realized she’d been holding it out?

 

“God, look at you. All sympathy, like you’re watching a dog with three legs.” Regina didn’t let go of Emma’s hand. “I still miss how you looked at me when I was good. I suppose I always will.”

 

“You _are_ good.”

 

“Keep telling me that. Please.”

 

With Regina’s hand in hers, Emma could pull Regina out of her seat and into an embrace. “You’re good. You’re so good. You’re a good person and your mother can’t do anything about that and your father can’t and even Danielcan’t. And if you feel bad, you just tell me all about how bad you are, so I can tell you how you _aren’t_. No more keeping things bottled up. I want all of you. Every little part.”

 

Regina let go of a deep breath. “You feel so nice, Emma. So nice. I missed you.”

 

“I missed you too.” Emma laughed suddenly, holding Regina tightly. “I can’t believe I thought you were some kind of criminal mastermind.”

 

Her chin on Emma’s shoulder, Regina smiled. “I don’t know. It was a little flattering.” She affected a deep voice. “Mayor Mills! Ruling Storybrooke with an iron fist!”

 

Emma patted Regina’s back soundly. “I’m sorry. I was so wrong about you… so bad.”

 

Regina felt a tiny kiss on her shoulder. _Emma_ , she thought with a mixture of emotion so deep she thought she’d never untangle it. “You wouldn’t be the first.”

 

“I was bad, Regina. I feel so… _bad_ about it.” Regina felt Emma’s hands skating down her back, off her body and onto Emma’s. Onto her belt, loosening it. Onto her jeans, lowering them. Her legs brushed against Regina’s as Emma stepped out of her pants. “Make me feel better?”

 

Regina felt a groan of desire work its way up her body to her mouth. She almost let it loose. How long had it been? It felt like ages. She shouldn’t have been tempted by Emma—such a novice when it came to passion. But every day that had passed without Emma at her beck and call had felt like being in a monastery.

 

“Emma—don’t you want to take things slow?” Regina asked desperately.

 

***

 

Emma didn’t. Not at all. She couldn’t quite explain it, but it was like she’d been sick and now she was well. Before, the thought of her and Regina had knotted in her gut, too confused and complicated to unravel. Now things were simple. She was Regina’s. Regina was hers. It was like whatever love spell she’d been under had started working again. And she never wanted it to end.

 

No, more than that. If it was just _that_ , she would’ve contented herself with a kiss and a promise of a date. She wanted more. She wanted _Regina_. As ugly as the thought was, in-between all the suspicions of foul play and the broken trust, she had to remember that Regina was exclusively hers. No more Ruby, for either of them. It was just her and Regina. And she assumed that for the last few weeks, Regina had been as celibate as she was.

 

The great Regina Mills. A mountain that’d been abandoned long enough for all the ski trails and climbing ropes and flags and camps to be covered in snow. Virgin territory once more. Emma’s to explore. Her personal playground. Emma wanted to mark her for all time. She wanted to give herself to Regina, and satisfy her mistress all by herself. She wanted Regina’s deepest, darkest desires to be quenched with hers.

 

Even more than _that_ , she wanted to force Regina away from everything that’d been weighting on her. Whatever guilt she carried, Emma wanted to take it from her. She wanted to rip her away from the ravages of her past. Let Regina hurt her, mark her, punish her, fuck her. Let her take all that pain and turn it into playthings. How would her mother like that—Regina taking all that bitch’s attempts to break her spirit and channeling them into one orgasmic relief for the two of them? Because it sounded great to Emma.

 

It sounded like a fairy tale.

 

***

 

“I want you. I want you now. I want you _bad_.”

 

Regina’s resolve didn’t so much weaken as switch sides. She suddenly felt an urgent need for Emma. A craving for her. Not just to fuck her—to have her fingers and her skin and her hair. To experience everything about her. To dip into her like a warm bath.

 

This time, Regina’s groan was audible. She didn’t dare look down to see what kind of panties Emma was wearing, _if_ she was wearing panties. She just felt Emma’s hands trail up her sides to her face, tickling under her chin.

 

“Put your fingers at my mouth,” Regina ordered. Emma did as she was told unquestioningly. She did it so fast… so fast.

 

Regina smelled her fingers like a first sip of fine wine, gently ran her tongue along Emma’s fingertips. Emma’s _taste_ … not even her pussy, but the almost aggressive sense of her flesh.

 

“Have you touched yourself since Ruby left?”

 

Emma swallowed. “I tried, but… it wasn’t the same.”

 

“Then you haven’t come in all this time?”

 

At the word ‘come,’ Emma gave a full-body shudder. She shook her head, unable to speak. Regina kissed her fingers.

 

“Make me feel good, Mommy?” Emma begged. Regina clamped her teeth down on Emma’s fingers and _squeezed_ so sweetly. “You’re the only one who knows how.”

 

“Wrap your arms around me,” Regina told her, her voice weighted down with all the lust in the world. “Give your mother a hug.”

 

Emma eagerly did, melting into Regina from crotch to forehead, lodging her face under Regina’s chin. Her young breasts rubbed against Regina’s, and her hands squeezed the flesh of Regina’s lower back as if asking permission to go lower still.

 

Regina raised her hand and brought it down on Emma’s backside. The smarting pain made Emma hug her tighter. The satisfaction of it was like a weight off Regina’s shoulders.

 

“We have to punish you,” Regina said, surprised to find she was short of breath. She continued haltingly, “before we can make you feel better.”

 

She reached down to take Emma’s panties in her hand—they were so thin, so gloriously thin—and pulled the back down around Emma’s upper thighs. Then she held Emma’s left buttock in her hand like an eagle would grip a mouse in its claws. _Mine. Only mine._

“How many do you want?” Regina asked, and Emma rose to the game like she’d been born for it. Of course, she had _._

 

“Ten,” Emma answered. “I was _very_ bad.”

 

“Yes. You were.” Regina eased Emma’s face down to her shoulder, so she wouldn’t be able to tell when Emma was crying into it. “Hold onto me, little one.”

 

Regina wrapped her other arm around Emma before bringing her right hand down again, hearing the hard smack like blood pounding in her ears and feeling Emma jerk in her grip. As they embraced, she brought her knee up into the crotch of Emma’s bunched panties. Wet. Wet already.

 

Regina’s hand worked like a machine, raising high in the air, then coming down brutally fast. As she got surer of herself—both from Emma’s pained, tearful moans into her shirt and from the damp heat gathering in Emma’s panties—the blows came harder and faster. By the tenth, Emma was a sobbing mess grinding down on Regina’s outstretched knee. She was muttering something under her breath, but Regina didn’t hear it. She only heard the pleading in her voice, and it pleased her, romantic as chocolates and flowers.

 

Very gently, Regina took Emma by the hair and pulled her back. Emma didn’t want to go at first. She stayed buried in Regina’s chest, her whole body shaking with her cathartic sobs. But Regina kept up the pressure, lovingly easing Emma off herself. Finally, Emma faced her, tears streaming down her cheeks and hair a mess. Regina gave her a reassuring smile and brushed her hair back, then slowly licked the tears from Emma’s face.

 

“Mommy loves you so much…” she said, when she wasn’t kissing away the salt down on Emma’s throat.

 

“I love you too, Mommy.” Emma’s breath hitched. She hugged Regina once more. “Please Mommy, can I come?”

 

Regina patted Emma’s head. “Yes, Emma, you may. Here.” Still soothing Emma, Regina brought her free hand up to Emma’s mouth and offered her fingers. “Get these nice and wet for Mommy?”

 

Emma opened her mouth and took what Regina gave her. She sucked desperately, like she was trying to gag herself, and her tongue lashed all over Regina’s fingers. With the stinging in her hand from giving Emma her punishment, it felt quite nice. Regina didn’t let it go on too long, though. Emma had to remember her place.

 

“Bend over the table for Mommy.”

 

Emma broke away from Regina, but kept her fingers in her mouth. Biting down on them while she eyed Regina like a piece of meat. Regina felt her body trembling with electricity. It was all she could do not to drop to her knees and devour Emma from the quim up.

 

Emma’s panties were still bunched around her knees. She stepped out of them.

 

“Hand those to me,” Regina ordered.

 

Emma opened her mouth. Regina’s hand didn’t move as Emma slowly moved her mouth out from around Regina’s dripping fingers, crouching down and picking up her panties. She straightened, held them out to Regina. Regina took them. Stuffed them in her pocket.

 

“Table,” Regina breathed. “Now.”

 

“Yes, Mommy.” Emma went to the conference table and bent at the waist, arms splayed, until from Regina’s view she was almost completely eclipsed behind a curvaceous backside. For a moment, Regina could only stare, thinking _yes, yes, yes._

Then she moved in. She stepped so close to Emma that the hem of her jacket brushed over Emma’s ass; the girl cooed in need. Regina’s hands steepled on either side of Emma. She lowered herself as quickly as she dared, until she was arched over Emma like a vampire about to strike. Emma’s head was turned on its side, one eye staring up at Regina in fear and need. As Regina approached, she twisted just enough for Regina to kiss her.

 

“I missed kissing you so much,” Regina murmured, for a moment just letting Emma be the one to kiss her, over and over again.

 

“I missed being kissed,” Emma confessed.

 

Regina sunk her hand into Emma’s face, holding her still for one last exploration of those gloriously parted lips. Then she abandoned Emma’s mouth, for now, running her lips over the thin cotton of Emma’s T-shirt, all the way down to the base of her spine, wonderfully bare _._ With every inch she breathed in Emma, traced the patterns of her skin with her eyes, memorized the exact kind of warmth Emma gave off.Thinking _I am never giving this up again._

Emma’s ass was a tiny apple of white flesh and subtle muscle. Boyish, almost flat, too much time on the track team for her to have the kind of curve that Regina loved about her own bountiful body, but just supple enough for Regina to enjoy. It was still palely pink from her punishment, except for one spot Regina had missed, almost to her hip. Regina went to it, took in one last breath of _Emma_ , then bit down hard.

 

Emma gasped sharply—moaned deliciously. Regina stopped before she drew blood, leaving a firm imprint of her teeth on Emma’s ass. She wondered how long it would last. Almost without her thinking it, her hands trailed over Emma, raking their nails down Emma’s back. Emma’s moan grew louder by degrees. A finger slid over the teeth marks on Emma’s flesh. As if washing her, hands ran from her narrow hips to the backs of her thighs and along the cleft of her ass. Emma was whimpering, her harsh breath stirring the papers left behind on the table. Just the way Regina liked her.

 

Regina caught her left cheek in one hand, squeezing it and drawing it away to open Emma up. “Mommy will expect you to do this next time, but I’ll do it for you just this once.”

 

“ _Regina…_ ” Emma was too far gone to keep playing games. It was almost enough to make Regina take pity on her. Almost enough.

 

Regina softly ran her eyes over the line of Emma’s ass, as if even looking too hard would disturb the beauty of Emma’s submission. There was the pink, puckered hole, just waiting for her. She circled it with her wet fingers, hearing a moan get caught in Emma’s throat. And almost before Emma could get used to the idea, she straightened her middle finger and slid it inside her.

 

Emma’s gasp was like a song you could listen to over and over again.

 

Emma’s hunched spine tried to snap up right, but Regina’s other hand was at the back of her neck, pressing her face back down against the tabletop. Regina’s thumb was at Emma’s mouth, feeling the hot breath stirred from her lungs. The same word, hitting Regina’s skin like gouts of flame. “Yes… yes… yes…”

 

Regina gave her another finger to see if she’d still say yes. Emma fought, she tightened, but Regina just gave her steady pressure until she opened up and let Regina in. And then Regina could feel Emma from the inside, all tight and warm, twitching, not sure whether it wanted her in or out. Emma’s eyes were shut, her teeth clenched, a tear rolling over the bridge of her nose. But her voice still came, small and strained: “ _Yes…”_

And damn if Emma wasn’t getting everywhere, even down the curve of her own thighs. Her body and blood may have come from her parents, but _that_ was all Regina. The sweet taste, the fragrant smell; Regina had discovered that. Invented it.

 

She bent her head and licked it off Emma’s inner thigh. It came as a shout now. “Yes! Please! Yes!”

 

Regina ran her nose up Emma’s thigh to breathe in the full scent of her arousal. “Baby wanna come?”

 

“You know what I need… Regina… _Regina…_ ”

 

And Regina knew what she needed too. “Say you love me! Say it!”

 

“I love you! I love you, Regina! Only you!”

 

Emma’s clit was taunting Regina with its hardness, its engorgement, all that blood and pleasure just waiting to happen. She drew up to it. Her lips parted. Her teeth flashed.

 

“Love you… love you…”

 

Regina bit down, very gently, letting Emma taste the cold wetness of her teeth as they trapped her, left her nowhere to run. The slightest pressure on the most sensitive part of Emma’s body, growing heavier and tighter by the degrees. Regina let her get used to it, feel it, want it, need it. She heard Emma’s declarations of love give way to gasping breaths, a primeval sound of pleasure that was so fragile it seemed like it might shatter. Emma was close, her entire body strumming like a guitar string.

 

Regina bit down harder, eliciting a sharp gasp, but that was as far as she went. Emma relaxed, if that was the word, into the new pleasure. Her sighs were breathy, electric. All Regina had to do was scissor her fingers in Emma’s ass, flick her tongue on Emma’s clit, and she would come. She didn’t. She eased Emma closer and closer to the line, an inch at a time, building the pressure by the quickening of Emma’s breath. She wanted to see how much Emma could take.

 

Minutes passed, Emma hyperventilating, exploding in slow-motion, wheezing like an asthma case. Regina shifted her head slowly, dragging Emma’s clit in her teeth, and saw tears glistening on Emma’s cheeks. Her hitched breath stopped for just a second and the words “love you” emerged like they’d come from a deep, dark pit.

 

Regina opened her mouth, released the pressure, and Emma finished. Not with a scream, but going dead quiet, releasing the last of her breath into the air then filling her chest with a long, silent, breath. Regina pulled her fingers clear, wiped them off with some hand sanitizer she had in her pocket. Emma rolled over onto her back, letting Regina see her breasts’ rise and fall.

 

The Mayor rose to tower over her. “Put your fingers in your cunt.”

 

“Regina… I can’t take anymore…”

 

“Do as I say,” Regina added calmly.

 

Emma reached down. Touched herself. Regina watched.

 

“Now hold your fingers out to me.”

 

Emma did. They were dripping.

 

Regina kissed each of her fingers clean in turn.

 

“So that’s make-up sex,” she commented, before sucking on Emma’s pinky.

 

Emma caught her breath smiling in a daze. “Say it,” she said at last, after Regina had finished, when the Mayor was just holding Emma’s hand against her face.

 

“Say what?”

 

“You know what. C’mon. Say it.”

 

Regina tamped down her confusion. “I love you too?”

 

Emma closed her eyes in bliss. “Thaaaat’s right.”

 

“Want me to prove it?”

 

“I think you just did.”

 

“I got you a present.” Regina walked over to the chair where she’d left her purse. “Put your pants on, dear. You’re not being ladylike.”

 

Emma giggled and picked them up off the floor with the toe of her shoe, maneuvered them back on without getting up. She sighed at the feel of the fabric on her almost-sore groin.

 

Regina took a box out of her purse and put it on Emma’s belly.

 

“What is it?” Emma asked.

 

“There seems an obvious way to find out.”

 

Emma opened the box. Inside was something black and smooth. It reminded Emma for a moment of a remote control. Then she recognized its contours, its length, its heft.

 

“I was, uh… kinda hoping you were gonna be my sex toy,” Emma joked.

 

“Always,” Regina replied. She picked the dildo up and showed Emma the base. “You’ll notice the slots where it attaches—very firmly I might add. I don’t have the harness with me; believe it or not, I don’t expect to have sex with you every waking moment.”

 

“This is…” Emma stared at the dildo, suddenly picturing _all of it_ inside her. “ _The_ dildo?”

 

“Yes, dear. Unless it doesn’t meet with your approval. I realize it’s a bit on the longish side, but it’s quite conservative by my standards. Trust me, you’ll have no problem taking it. Not with me.”

 

Emma was speechless. Smiling with pride, Regina pulled Emma’s jeans open and slid the dildo inside—not penetrating her, but letting her feel the cool satiny surface down there.

 

“You hold onto it,” Regina told her. “As long as you want. And when you’re ready, you call me. We’ll meet. And I’ll use it. I’ll make you mine forever.”

 

“Day after tomorrow,” Emma said, almost immediately. “My mom’s headed out of town for training seminar. I’ll be all alone. All night.”

 

“If you’re sure. Take tomorrow to think it over. I’ll more than understand if you have second thoughts.”

 

“No. I want it. The sooner the better.” Emma smiled so big as to come off as foolish. “I want you to make me a woman.”

 

“You’re already a woman, Emma. As I said—I’m just going to make you _my_ woman.”

 

***

 

Regina sat in her perfect clothes at her perfect desk in her perfect house, looking at the image of her perfect fiancé. The one thing missing from her perfect world. She’d forget what he looked like without his ring; she wouldn’t know the edges of the hole in her life.

 

Her buzzer rang. The light that came to her at the thought of Emma was one of the thing that made it easy to forget.

 

Those leash laws were never going to get ratified.

 

Unfortunately, it was August. When she let him in he was leaning on his cane rather more heavily than she remembered.

 

“Say,” she remarked, eying it, “that’s not a relative, is it?”

 

“You’re hilarious,” he groused.

 

“Yes, but no one ever seems to notice.”

 

She showed him into her greeting room, where he sagged into a chair that groaned under his half-wooden weight. August was sweating hard. Regina wondered how long it’d take to become sawdust.

 

“As your official autobiographer, I should ask—how _did_ you pull off that trick with Ruby?”

 

Regina sat down across from him. “That was a stroke of luck on my part,” she admitted. Then laughed at the thought. Her, lucky. But then, hadn’t it been fortunate that Emma had grown up so… engaging? “There’s a certain tea I brew that links those in love, or who are meant to be in love; it’s complicated, as the heart often is. I had planned to serve Ruby the tea, find her beloved, and spread the story that the two had run away together. Fortuitously, an old game piece came back into play. Now, I could’ve discarded Belle after Rumpelstiltskin outlived his usefulness, but I always like to keep an ace up my sleeve. How surprised was I when she turned out to be Ruby’s lady love.”

 

“Not very,” August guessed. He looked constipated, congested.

 

“Our dear Belle,” Regina mused. “Rumpel saw her as so pure, so innocent. His own happy ending. How could I resist making her the vulgar harlot she’d always dreamed of being?”

 

“And so you had her dream up a relationship with Ruby.” August blinked with a clicking sound. “Have you ever seen Inception?”

 

“You haven’t heard the twist yet. I was able to share their dream and guide them every step of the way, making our stories match up perfectly. Why? Because Ruby is just a little bit in love with me. How could she not be, when I’ve been ravishing her with mind-blowing orgasms every night?”

 

August groaned and Regina smiled.

 

“Am I giving you a little wood?”

 

Like a magician’s trick, a gun appeared from August’s pocket. Regina stared down the muzzle like a rabbit hole. “As Mayor, I should let you know we have strict gun control laws in Storybrooke.”

 

“Enough! No more games, no more jokes. Give me the cure _now_.”

 

“You wouldn’t shoot a defenseless woman, would you?” Regina asked in exaggerated affront.

 

August cocked the pistol.

 

A bullet aimed squarely at her back, Regina lad him through her perfect decorations and perfect furnishings and perfect windows showing perfect weather. Everything she’d sacrificed for. She wondered what it looked like to him.

 

“It must be hard,” she said, “seeing all the people you abandoned. I may be evil, but at least I was here.”

 

She heard a quickening of wood-on-wood steps, felt the gunbarrel press between her shoulder blades. “Shut up, cunt.”

 

Regina came to the door down to the basement. As soon as he saw the dark staircase, August backed away. “You expect me to go down there? You think I’m an idiot?”

 

“Yes,” Regina said readily.

 

“What’s the cure?” August demanded, holding the gun to her head.

 

“Cure? What cure? The magic was inside you all along.”

 

August locked his free hand around Regina’s throat and held her over the edge of the stairs. “I wonder what Emma would say if she found her girlfriend strangled to death by a wooden dummy?”

 

“As opposed to a flesh and blood one?” August tightened his grip. “Alright, alright, I’ll talk! Just stay right there.”

 

August lowered her onto the first step, towering above her in the doorway. “So talk.”

 

“You’re really going to leave? Just abandon Emma and go?”

 

“ _Yes!_ ” And though he leveled his gun at her, August almost seemed to be pleading.

 

“Then I guess there’s no harm in telling you—to be a real boy, you must be selfless, brave, and true.“ Regina paused, as if a sudden thought had struck her. “Oh my. I don’t suppose the universe would see your bravery in ‘slaying’ all that foreign pussy, would it?”

 

“You’re lying!” August dropped her and Regina caught her balance admirably. “You must have a potion or a scroll or something!”

 

“No, Mr. Booth, I’m afraid not. No magical solution to all your problems. To get what you want, you have to earn it. And it’s a bit late in the day for that.”

 

August screamed and pulled the trigger, but his hand was already wood. It wouldn’t move an inch.

 

“Trying to kill someone in cold blood? That won’t win you any points.” Regina stepped past the immobile August, and as she did she sidled up next to him. “You knew exactly what I was, and yet you left an innocent baby girl to face me all alone. For that alone, you deserve this.”

 

Regina collected the gun from August’s stiff hand and went to lock it in her safe, leaving him to make his transformation in silence. When she returned, the only sound was his eyelids. Clicking.

 

“I was worried I’d have to lug you downstairs all by myself, but that’s the good thing about wood: it’s durable.”

 

With a devilish smile on her angel’s face, Regina pushed August down the stairs.


	32. Chapter 32

Emma laid in bed, her phone in her hand. She wasn’t paying attention to it. She was looking at the book of fairy tales below her. Turning its pages, the text blurring in front of her, not really drawing her eye either. She was focused, if you could call it that, on the heavy pages, the framework that enclosed the words, the pictures… it all seemed too _old_ to be sold in Barnes & Noble, or wherever August off-loaded it.

 

Well. She wouldn’t have use for fairy tales much longer. She wasn’t a little girl anymore. Turning her attention to the phone, Emma stabbed the button for Regina’s quick-dial and let it ring.

 

Regina picked up almost immediately, though she shouted to be heard over a loud buzz in the background. “Emma?”

 

“Yeah,” Emma said, hearing more the crackle of a weathered page as she turned it. “It’s that day.”

 

“I know.” Regina did something so that the buzz died down to faint white noise. “And before you say anything, I want to let you know that I completely understand if you have second thoughts. We don’t have to do anything, you hear me? Nothing has to happen.”

 

“I want it to.” Another page turned. Emma watched the light fall on new words, a new picture. “My mother’s gone. When can you come over?”

 

“Soon, dear. I just have some work to finish up. It won’t be long.”

 

“I’ll be waiting,” Emma promised. Another page fell. “Regina, what’s that sound?”

 

“Oh, I’m just running the wood chipper. It’s almost done.”

 

Emma turned the page as the line went dead. She stared at the page before her, the book seeming to come into focus for the first time. The woman in the illustration looked a lot like Belle. Lacey Bell, from three towns over, who August couldn’t possibly have known…

 

***

 

Regina hadn’t lied. She did have business to attend to.

 

She was a woman who liked to savor her pleasures. She hadn’t always been, she admitted that, but eighteen years ruling over Storybrooke, maneuvering every chess piece into position—that satisfaction had taught her the folly of just acting on impulse, tempestuous and short-sighted. Emma had taught her the folly of that. Hadn’t she almost ruined everything, trying to couple Emma and her sweet Ruby before they were ready? You’d think all those years of dominating Ruby would’ve broken her down more, but Regina guessed a wolf could never be tamed.

 

Wolves and queens. Eighteen years, and the Evil Queen felt her thirst for vengeance even more keenly. She drove to the edge of town and found, of course, Mary-Margaret’s car stopped in the middle of the road. Regina stopped a dozen feet away. She got out of her car and walked to Snow White.

 

As expected, Mary-Margaret was asleep in the driver’s seat, her vision of leaving Storybrooke and attending to business elsewhere only a dream. Regina took hold of her, thinking of snapping her neck, dropping her in the woods so it’d be like she had just driven off. And Emma would be all Regina’s.

 

But that, of course, would be too clean. There’d be nothing to savor. So Regina just moved her into the passenger seat, got into the driver’s, and moved the car so it was pointed back toward Storybrooke. The next day, Mary-Margaret would awaken and continue her drive, sure she’d been at a team-building seminar for the past few hours. She’d have no idea that Emma was no longer hers.

 

Regina stared at her nemesis. Once strong, powerful. Being pathetic and weak and craven had come easily to her. Like a base mineral floating to its own level. She’d always been weak, but the world had literally conspired to make her into some kind of hero. The Blue Fairy, her dwarves, her pet werewolf, her beloved prince. But this was Regina’s world.

 

“This time, I get to win,” she told Mary-Margaret’s sleeping carcass. “This time, I get everything I want! This time, I live happily ever after, because you’re finally going to make up for taking my love away from me. By giving me your own flesh and blood.”

 

***

 

Emma didn’t know what she was expecting when the doorbell rang, when she ran downstairs to throw the door open. Flowers and chocolates, though, were definitely not it.

 

“Surely,” Regina said, handing over the bouquet and the heart-shaped box, “when you told me your mother was gone, you realized I could _finally_ come over bearing gifts?”

 

“I might’ve been expecting you to ravish me against the hall closet,” Emma said knowingly. “But I should probably put these in water first.”

 

She snitched a chocolate on the way to the kitchen, was surprised by how bitter it was. Bad luck to grab that one first. She turned on the tap to fill the vase with water; behind her she heard Regina closing the front door and locking it. The click of her high heels on the tile floor. The sweep of fabric as she hung up her coat. And then there was Regina, in the kitchen doorway, wearing one of those business suits that only she ever wore. One that made her look like a supermodel using Storybrooke as her own personal runway.

 

“What shall we do?” Regina asked silkily, striding into the kitchen with slow, bold steps. “We could cuddle up on the couch and watch some TV. Or listen to an album. Maybe you could let me fix you a romantic dinner. I’m sure your mother has plenty of ingredients lying around.” Her words were reassuring, but her voice knew Emma had no intention of doing any of that.

 

She picked a chocolate from the box and popped it into her mouth. From her contented moan and delighted face, it was clearly sweet as sin. And just like that, Emma was kissing her, sharing the taste of the chocolate between them. Regina’s arms wrapped possessively around Emma’s back, holding her still as Regina surged against her, backing her into the counter and practically breaking her spine against it. Just like that, Emma was bent under Regina, her body thrilling with the feeling of being taken so… elegantly.

 

“You have it,” Regina said certainly, and Emma had no doubt what she was referring to. “You have it on you right now.”

 

Emma reached into her pocket and brought out the dildo Regina had given her just a few days ago. It’d been a constant temptation since then, a constant threat, and one of the reasons Emma had been so eager for this day was so that she could finally give it back to Regina.

 

“And guess what I have on?” Regina teased. She pulled up the short skirt of her suit, the side of it, just far enough to reveal a leather strap curving around her thigh.

 

Emma bit her lip. “I want to go to bed,” she said, almost petulantly.

 

Regina nodded. Emma took her hand and pulled her to the stairs, was not quite surprised when Regina pulled back to curl her arms around Emma once more, squeeze her tenderly. “Not that bed,” Regina whispered in her ear. “Where does your mother sleep? Where’s the marriage bed?”

 

Emma understood what she meant, of course. Her mother’s bed was queen-sized, once holding Mary-Margaret and David. There’d be plenty of room for… both of them.

 

Regina released her and, like a bloodhound, Emma led her straight to Mary-Margaret’s bedroom. On the door, there was still the crayon drawing Emma had done when she was six, spelling out ‘Mommy’s Room’ in rainbow letters. Emma wondered if Regina kissing her on the back of the neck had anything to do with her seeing that.

 

She opened the door, walked into the room. The bed dominated the cozy space, intimidatingly large and foreign, not at all like Emma’s room with the blue bedspread and the one race car pillowcase she’d never been able to part with. This was white with pink reliefs, floral patterns on the pillows, miles more innocent than Regina’s own bed. To Emma, it looked like the kind of bed you laid in with your whole family to watch Disney movies.

 

Regina pushed her down onto it. Emma could barely whimper, barely breathe as she turned over to see Regina undressing. First, Regina put her foot up on the bed. Her boots were strikingly tall; they took time for Regina to unzip. First one, then the other, stepping out of them into stockings that made it look like soft shadows were covering her legs and nothing else.

 

“You look so wonderful,” Regina said, eying Emma’s jeans and worn tanktop. She hadn’t had time to change. She’d barely had time to shower. Her hair was still wet. Emma smiled, blushing.

 

Regina put her feet up on the bed again, closer to Emma. If she wanted, Emma could grab hold of them, pull Regina to her, thrust against those amazing thighs. But she was paralyzed; unable to do more than watch as Regina rolled those sheer stockings down her legs. One by one. Then her blazer—each button getting its own consummate attention from Regina, fondly touched and rolled through its little buttonhole, until Regina could shrug the blazer off and all that was left was her shirt, practically sheer.

 

“Would you like to help me?” Regina asked teasingly, tugging her shirt out from where it was tucked in.

 

Emma shook her head. She wanted to rip Regina’s clothes off. She wanted to keep watching. It was all confusing, but in a good way.

 

Regina kept smiling at her as she pulled the shirt over her head, somehow not moving a hair out of place. Her breasts in their lace bra were perfect as always. Everything about Regina was. Intimidatingly perfect, untouchably perfect. Emma felt like she was contemplating vandalism, imagining sex with her. And everyone would say Regina was going to corrupt her, pop her cherry, take her virginity… how? She had innocence to be marred, maybe, in theory, but Regina had so much perfection and how could Emma possibly add to that?

 

How could she try?

 

Regina removed her skirt next. Unzipping it, wiggling out of it, the little shimmy that was so much more seductive than any ostentatious stripping. She wasn’t wearing panties. She was wearing the harness for the strap-on. Emma’s mouth hung open slightly as she watched Regina attach it, quickly, professionally, with a craftsman’s love for their tools.

 

“Would you like to ready it?” Regina asked, producing a bottle of Vaseline from her purse, which was lying in Mary-Margaret’s favorite chair.

 

Emma forced herself to nod. She had to be part of this. She couldn’t just be a tiny participant in her own first time. She held out her hand and Regina squirted a thick blob of lotion into it, then canted her hips to present the cock to Emma. Emma took hold of it before she could even think, rubbing her hands over every nook and cranny, practically grinding the lotion into the thing. It was hard to ignore the heft of the dildo, its weight—a real, tangible thing that would be inside her, that would enter her… that Regina would use to fuck her. But that was good; it was good to get used to it. She was prepared for it now. She was.

 

“You’re doing very well, my love,” Regina said, setting her hand on Emma’s shoulder.

 

“Uh?” Emma replied eloquently.

 

The hand rubbed and soothed like Regina was petting a kitten. “One can barely tell how nervous you are. It’s alright to be nervous, Emma. I was too.”

 

“You’re not nervous now.”

 

“I am.” Regina’s hand moved to Emma’s wrists, stopping them so Emma was just… covering up the dildo. “I’m nervous I’ll hurt you. That I won’t make you feel good. Or that I’ll ruin this for you, somehow.”

 

Emma looked up at her with a tiny but bold smile. “You always make me feel good.”

 

Regina smiled right back at her. “Lie down on the bed.”

 

Emma laid back. Now Regina wasn’t just taller than her, she was towering above Emma. Her cock was towering above Emma. “Do you want to take your clothes off?” Regina asked, as she removed her bra at just the right time to take Emma’s mind off what was going to happen. “Or shall I?”

 

“I’ll do it.” Emma popped the belt of her jeans, pulled that out of its loops before she did anything else. Regina looked down at her dildo, noticed a glob of Vaseline stuck to the head, and idly rubbed it into the black material with a single outstretched finger. Emma almost tore her denim as she wrestled it down her legs. She laid there, kicking it off her feet, feeling like her panties were on display. Like they had their own website. Like they were on the big TV at a football stadium.

 

“You’re very brave.” Regina reached for her.

 

Emma rolled out of bed, suddenly frantically smoothing the wrinkles out of her shirt. It hung down over her groin some. “Uh… uh… Regina, can you sit?”

 

“Certainly.” Regina seated herself on the bed. Now at eyelevel with Emma’s panties, where the shirt didn’t cover them.

 

“And, uh, lie down. On your back.”

 

Regina gave her a dazzling smile as she complied. “Anything for you, my love.”

 

“I’m just gonna…” Emma tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m just gonna sit on you, okay? I mean ride you. I mean, lower myself onto you—your thing. Dildo.”

 

Regina nodded. On her back, the dildo stood up like a totem pole. “I think I get the gist of your plan.”

 

“Okay. Alright.” Emma peeled her panties down her legs, came up with her hands knotted in front of her crotch. “Do we have time for a drink first? I think my mom keeps some rum somewhere…”

 

“Emma,” Regina said fondly. “It’s alright. Come here. Just give me your hand.”

 

Holding out her hand, with those long slender fingers that had brought Emma so much pleasure, the girl couldn’t help but okay. She took Regina’s hand, felt those long fingers take hers in a sure, strong grasp, and slowly pull her in. She got onto the bed on her knees, shuffling forward on them to straddle Regina, all the way until the upthrust dildo was flush against her crotch.

 

“Are you ready?” Regina asked, and Emma couldn’t answer. With her free hand, Regina petted Emma’s hip lovingly. “Look at your little pink pussy, Emma. It’s so wet, it’s shimmering. You’re ready for this, Emma. I promise that you are. Come on now. You know what to do.”

 

Emma lifted herself up. She held herself over Regina, her perfection, her dildo, and was very glad that she was still wearing her shirt. At least she was a little covered. At least Regina couldn’t see all of her sweat and goosepimples and underarm hair. God, why hadn’t she shaved and styled and all the other dozen things she could’ve done to look like she belonged with Regina? Why hadn’t she admitted this was happening until… now?

 

Emma’s thighs were beginning to burn. She’d held herself above Regina so long, with Regina just waiting patiently, petting her skin and looking so supportive, so _proud_ that she’d gotten this far. Emma couldn’t disappoint her. Couldn’t disappoint herself. She forced herself lower… lower… her eyes closing, then opening, then looking away, then looking into Regina’s eyes with all their love and warmth and friendship. She felt the tip of Regina’s dildo push against her groin. Gasped as it caught and slid inside, no more wide than a few fingers, but somehow painful, _cold_ …

 

“Stop,” Regina ordered, using her commanding voice for the first time that night. Emma obeyed instantly, freezing in place, and Regina… giggled. “I was about to tell you _not_ to tense up. You have to relax, Emma. You just have to relax.”

 

She kept stroking Emma’s hip, now running her hand from Emma’s splayed leg up to her ribs, pushing her shirt up a little with each stroke. Her other hand went to Emma’s face, holding her cheek in her palm like she was touching a diamond. She brushed her thumb over Emma’s lips. She wound her fingers in Emma’s long hair.

 

Emma looked down at Regina’s face. Her smile was a different kind of perfect—full of love and acceptance and respect and kindness. Why couldn’t anyone else make Emma feel the way she did? Warmed. Loved. Home. Emma reached down and dared to touch Regina’s cheek the same way Regina had hers.

 

“I love you so much, Regina.”

 

“I love you too.” Regina kissed her wrist, right on its throbbing pulse. “Do you want to stop?”

 

“No. I never want to stop.”

 

“Then let me have you. Give yourself to me. Be mine… and I’ll always be yours.”

 

Emma bit her lip. “How? Show me…”

 

“Put your hands beside my head.”

 

Emma did, leaning forward on them. She felt the head of Regina’s dildo touch her wet folds and was breathless.

 

Regina turned her head, kissing either of Emma’s forearms in gentle supplication. “Now come to me. Just lower yourself down.”

 

Emma rocked slightly, feeling the glans of the dildo dip into her moistness, parting them just slightly. It felt good. Threateningly good.

 

“Come to me,” Regina repeated, her voice low, hypnotic. “It’s what you want. It’s what I want. Why can’t we have what we want?”

 

Emma looked down once more. Now she could see that Regina had the dildo in her hand, guiding it up to Emma’s sex. All Emma had to do was fall. Slowly, painstakingly, but fall nonetheless. And how hard was that?

 

Emma bent her elbows, bringing herself an inch closer to Regina. Instantly, she felt a tingle of pain. It wasn’t so bad, not when she could also feel Regina kissing her outstretched hands. She breathed deep and parted her legs a little more, retracted her arms a little more. Now she hissed in pain. The dildo was big and cold and big and _inside her,_ just a little but more than enough, it had a hold on her, it had caught her, it was in her and eating her from the inside-out, radiating a confused pain. Pain that didn’t know if it was good or bad.

 

Emma felt her eyes water.

 

“It’s okay,” Regina said, letting go of Emma and the dildo to wipe at Emma’s eyes. “It’s just me. Don’t think of it as something strange or bad. Just think of it as me. You’re taking me inside you. I’ll always be with you, now. I’ll always be your first.”

 

Emma swept down one more inch. As Regina had promised, Emma felt her inside. A feverishly warm pressure from the inside, a weight almost, a sensation of being pulled at from within. It felt weird more than painful, but it was painful too. She saw a rivulet of blood run down the dildo, almost lost in its black contours.

 

Emma didn’t think about the blood, the pain. She didn’t let herself think at all. She just kept going, as the hurt mounted, as her breathing tightened. She could _feel_ the dildo, Regina, inside her, a strange foreign thing that her body was rejecting, trying to push out, trying to hold so it wouldn’t go any deeper. But she had to. She had to take it all. For Regina.

 

Feeling the hot tears streaking down her cheeks more than the what was happening between her legs, Emma inched down until her face was almost touching Regina’s, Regina’s breasts brushing against her T-shirt. Regina wasn’t smiling anymore. She was just giving Emma a look of absolute devotion and satisfaction. She had wanted Emma to come to her and Emma had. She’d found Regina through the pain.

 

Regina closed the last few inches between them, kissing Emma like it was for the first time, slowly and tenderly. Emma felt her pain melt under the cooling warmth of Regina’s lips. The dildo inside her was still a strange weight, an awkward thing that was part of her body and yet not, but it felt right somehow. It was Regina, so it felt right.

 

Slowly, painstakingly slowly, Regina lifted herself up. She brought herself up until she was sitting, with Emma sprawled against her upright body, barely held up by the Mayor. The shift moved the dildo inside her, and by some alchemy it felt different now. Maybe she was just getting used to it, but the pain of being penetrated was being sent at some new frequency, one that pleased instead of hurting. She liked it. She liked it.

 

Regina wrapped her arms around Emma, and Emma recognized that it wasn’t in a possessive way. It was protective. Regina was shielding her against something Emma couldn’t imagine. The world, maybe. The embrace had her in a little bubble with Regina, and Regina had filled it with love. She sobbed the last of the pain into Regina’s shoulder, feeling those strong fingers rubbing her back and petting her hair, growing used to Regina being a part of her.

 

“It’s just me you’re feeling,” Regina whispered in her ear. “It’s my love for you. You can feel your body stretching and changing and it hurts, I know it hurts, but it means you’re a woman now. You’re my woman now.”

 

Emma rubbed the tears from her eyes with the heel of her hand. The pain felt good now. Tempting.

 

“Regina,” she said in a clear voice. “Make love to me.”

 

Still holding onto Emma, Regina turned her around and lowered her to the bed, mounting her like a climber atop a peak. “Always, my princess. Always.”

 

***

 

Afterward, Emma went to wash up without looking back. She left the bed she’d lost her virginity, the bed she’d been conceived in, the one Regina had brought over from the Enchanted Forest so she could have that specific thought, clutch it to her breast like a child of hers. As Regina heard the shower running, she reached down to undo the strap-on. But first, she ran her finger down its length, the tip coming up red, and like a child snitching frosting she sucked the finger into her mouth, tasting the product of Snow White and Prince Charming’s loving union. She’d thought of spilling their blood in a thousand different ways. This was the most satisfying by way.

 

“I win,” she said into the still air, and waited for Emma to return.


	33. Chapter 33

In the dark, her mother’s bedroom was almost threatening. None of the familiar posters or odd cardboard cutout that gave Emma’s eyes something to do before they shut. Just posters of kittens, stacks of the self-help books that women seemed to exert a gravitational force on once they turned thirty, a sewing machine that cast an alien silhouette in the moonlight. She was breathing hard, her vision blurred, exuberating the disconnect. Besides her, Regina was undoing the strap-on. She set it on the nightstand. In the moonlight, the blood on the end was blacker than black. True darkness.

 

Emma caught her breath at the same time Regina threw an arm across her, loosely pulling them close. The room settled. It made her a little nostalgia for the nights when she’d gone to sleep with her mother after a bad dream.

 

“Are you alright?” Regina asked, resting her forehead against Emma’s cheek.

 

“Alright?” Emma giggled. “I think I’m still coming.”

 

Regina smiled a moment, pleased with herself, then sobered again. “No, really. You can tell me if anything’s wrong, or if you don’t feel comfortable, or just if there’s something you don’t understand—“

 

Emma turned just far enough to kiss her. On the lips, since Regina didn’t seem capable of that herself at the moment. “I’m fine. I feel fine. No regrets.”

 

“Good. That’s good, when it comes to regrets. One of us shouldn’t have them.”

 

“You _can_ hold me if you want. I’d like that.”

 

“I didn’t know how to ask.” Regina smiled in the dark. Emma counted it as a triumph.

 

Emma turned onto her side, regretting that now she couldn’t look at Regina, but eager to feel her pressed against her back—married to her from head to toe—her smoothly muscular arms wrapped around Emma almost protectively. Just like in all the books, all the movies, all the TV shows. Spooning: what you did after you made love.

 

Regina’s voice was in her ear, soft and lovingly gentle. “It’s been a long time since I’ve held someone like this. Like it means something, I should say.” She ran her lips along Emma’s ear, her cheek, her hairline—like she was tasting her. Emma felt her delight in the simple nearness to her lover. “Be honest, now. Does it hurt?”

 

“There’s a bit of an ache; it’s fading.” Emma grinned. “I kinda like it. It’s like I earned the pleasure or something, I don’t know…”

 

“And does it feel any different?” Regina’s voice acquired a teasing vibe. “Being a woman?”

 

“No. It feels the same. Girl or woman—I’m still yours.”

 

The next thing Emma felt was a soulful kiss on the back of her neck. It wasn’t enough for Regina. A strong hand held Emma’s face and turned her to Regina’s lips, her tongue, her passion. Emma felt a moan rise from her. She almost reached for that strap-on again, though anymore of _that_ and she thought they’d void the warranty.

 

Regina stopped, kissing her jawline instead, tiny little pecks that cooled Emma down instead of overheating her again. She drew the sheet up, baring their legs, and Emma looked down to see a patch of darkness on the white bedspread. Blood.

 

Regina reached down with her hand, placing her palm flat on the stain. Still warm. “You know, in medieval times—after a marriage—the bride and groom’s families would wait to see the bloody sheets after the couple’s first night. Proof of the bride’s chastity—and current lack thereof.”

 

“I don’t think my mom would be so happy to see it. We’ll have to change the sheets before she gets back.”

 

“I’ll take them with me,” Regina purred. “Hang it up on my trophy wall.”

 

Emma giggled. “You could call it modern art.”

 

“You’re the only artwork here.”

 

Emma blushed.

 

Regina returned her arms to Emma’s body, tightening her grip. “Do you ever think about the future?”

 

“I’m eighteen. I try not to.”

 

“I was thinking about us—becoming official. Coming out of the closet, if people still say that.”

 

Emma’s brow furrowed. “I thought you said that would ruin your career?”

 

Regina, touched by Emma’s concern, rewarded her with a small kiss and a running of her hands over Emma’s arms. “We wouldn’t hold a press conference. We’d do it by degrees. Be seen in public. Have lunches together. Let people get used to the idea. Then we adopt an Asian baby and have an outdoor wedding.”

 

Emma—all smiles. “What’d you have in mind?”

 

“Thanksgiving’s in two weeks. Invite me to dinner. It’s about time your mother and I have a proper meeting.”

 

“Do lesbians hate their mother-in-laws or is that just a guy thing?”

 

“I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out.” Regina ran her hand back over Emma’s arm, just for the feel of it. She loved the lithe muscle and the fair skin. She thought for a second of what it’d be like to be held by them; have Emma be the big spoon. “I love you, Emma Blanchard. I always have and I always will. And I’m so glad you’ve come to realize it too.”

 

“I love you too,” Emma said. It came so easily to her.

 

She twisted in Regina’s grasp, breaking free, rolling atop Regina.

 

“What are you doing?” the mayor asked, somewhat amused, somewhat bewildered.

 

Emma kissed her way down Regina’s body, her mouth lingering on every curve, every mole, every scar. A supplicant approaching a temple on her knees. “Showing you how much I love you.” She parted Regina’s legs, shifting them up onto her shoulders.

 

Regina closed her eyes as Emma began her work, lacking in experience for the moment, but overwhelming in enthusiasm. Whatever she was used to from Ruby, from Graham and all the rest, there was something special about how Emma attended her. Perhaps it was just all the work she’d put into it. All the anticipation.

 

Regina would figure it out later. At the moment, she found it very hard to think. About her past, about the future. About anything at all besides Emma.

 

***

 

Regina’s car winded up the leaf-strewn road, the dusk light still heavy enough to make headlights unnecessary. Her destination was miles out of town—almost to the limits of the Curse. The lonely old house on the lonely old hilltop. Besides her, Graham sat in the passenger seat. He had no comment on Regina’s driving, on their mission, on much of anything. Not when Regina had his heart in her purse.

 

They came to a stop in the old house’s lot. The lights were on, a silhouette in one of the windows. Regina smiled to herself. Jefferson was waiting for her. As he always was. “Get the luggage,” she told Graham, and left the engine running to go to the front door. This wouldn’t take long.

 

Jefferson got the door for her, as always. He’d given up on trying to get her to open it. He must’ve planned a thousand ways to get Regina inside the house, where he could touch her. Probably even had some rather interesting implements designed, just in case he ever got the opportunity to punish her for her misdeeds. Regina would’ve loved to see what a passionate amateur could come up with, but resigned herself to curiosity. No need to risk it.

 

 “What do you want, Regina?” Jefferson asked, standing in the doorway. As beaten down as he’d been by the past eighteen years, Regina could still smell the desire for revenge on him. The need just under his veins to get his hands on Regina, only for one second, just long enough to snap her neck. If only he could get out of that fucking house. But (Regina thought with a smile) he was trapped there. Just like he’d trapped her once.

 

She didn’t regret becoming Rumpelstiltskin’s apprentice. But she didn’t appreciate it either.

 

“I’m in a good mood.” Regina remembered just how long Emma had pleased her, how studious she’d been in her efforts, how overjoyed she’d been with her success. That kind of passion couldn’t be paid for, commanded, or magicked. Oh no. It’d been _earned. “_ A generous mood. And I think you’ve learned your lesson. How would you like your child back?”

 

Jefferson couldn’t help it. As many years as she’d denied him, he still sprung up with a disgusting sort of _yearning._ “Really?”

 

“No, I’m kidding.” Regina laughed, leaning against the house. “Isn’t it just _awful_ , having hope dangled in front of your face then just snatched away?”

 

“Cunt,” he said. “You fucking cunt.”

 

“Cheer _up_ ,” she reprimanded. “I’m not going to let you go home—well, stay home—empty-handed.”

 

And here came Graham now, lugging August’s wooden frame behind him.

 

“Another one of your victims?” Jefferson growled.

 

“Another person who tried to victimize me.”

 

Graham set it down on the porch, just out of Jefferson’s reach, and Regina chanced pushing it over herself so Jefferson could catch it. Eyes shooting daggers at her, he dragged it inside.

 

With a wooden creak, the puppet came to life. Toes curling, fingers clenching, eyes blinking. All disturbingly mahogany, of course, but Regina herself would’ve preferred it to being trapped in her own body. And her body was far more appealing than August’s to begin with.

 

“The Curse doesn’t quite apply to this house,” she explained. She loved explaining to people how they were beaten. “So, August, as long as you’re inside, magic will let you run around and play. You two roomies can talk and wrestle around and do all sorts of fun activities—just be careful of splinters.” She slapped Graham’s chest. “Come on. We’re done here.”

 

“Regina!” August called after her, and Regina paused. “Why?”

 

“As I said. I’m in a generous mood. I might even support our local sheriff by putting his heart back in his chest.” She smiled over her shoulder. “Besides, I’ve been meaning to declutter my basement.”

 

***

 

Mary-Margaret always intended her Thanksgiving morning to be like one of those cooking shows that didn’t star Gordon Ramsey. A lot of swanning around in a nice dress, big smiles, and nothing smoking. Instead, it had a lot in common with FEMA.

 

“How’re those place settings coming?” Mary-Margaret shouted into the dining room. It was 10 AM and she still had her jeans on.

 

“Forks, spoons, plates, other things,” Emma replied. She was looking at her cell phone and its text message from Regina. _Wearing the dress I bought you?_ She replied _Y._ “You want me to fill the water glasses yet?”

 

“No, sweetie, by the time our guests get here, the ice will have melted.” Mary-Margaret put her hands on her hips, trying to remember what she’d forgotten. “Did you clean out your car?”

 

“Why?” Emma asked, trying very hard to be patient.

 

“In case someone looks through the window while it’s parked in the driveway. The last thing our guests need to see is a car full of gas receipts and goodness knows what else.”

 

“You want me to park around the corner?” Emma asked dryly.

 

“You were the one who invited the Mayor. Do you want the Mayor to think we’re dirty slobs?”

 

Emma kept her thoughts on just how dirty Regina Mills thought the Blanchard women were to herself. “Mom, I don’t think the Mayor really compares to the half of Storybrooke you invite every year. I mean, when was the last time you talked to Archie Whathisface?”

 

“We had a very nice book club meeting last month,” Mary-Margaret told her, head in the stove to check the turkey. The thermometer still hadn’t popped.

 

“I’m just saying, if you didn’t invite enough people to hold a census, you wouldn’t have to worry so much about cooking.”

 

“They’re our friends,” Mary-Margaret insisted. “I like having them over. We’re all in the same kind of… sphere. But Regina is… well, she’s the Mayor. _Leroy_ certainly isn’t going to judge me for spilling some cranberry sauce on my blouse, but Regina is always so cool, so composed, never a hair out of place.”

 

“Not always,” Emma said.

 

Mary-Margaret gave her a look.

 

“I mean, everyone has a wild side, right?”

 

“Yes, I’m sure Regina gets really naughty and fills out her forms in duplicate instead of triplicate.” Mary-Margaret jerked her hand up as if a hypnotic trigger had just been activated. “Mashed potatoes! Did we peel the potatoes? Where are the potato peelings? Oh God, we’re all going to die…” she finished in a small voice.

 

The doorbell rang. Emma gleefully turned on her heel. “I’ll get it!”

 

To Emma’s pleased surprise, it was Regina, holding a towel-covered dish still piping hot. “Hello there, Emma. How are you?”

 

“Five seconds ago or now that you’re here? Get in here.” Emma turned her head to the kitchen. “Mom, Regina’s here!”

 

Mary-Margaret came out of the kitchen still wiping her hands on a towel. _Well don’t yell!_ She mouthed viciously. “Regina, so lovely of you to drop by… and so early.”

 

“I thought, seeing as I’m your guest, I’d help a little with the cooking.”

 

“You don’t have to do that,” Mary-Margaret insisted. “I can manage.”

 

“I’m sure. But I’d think myself a bad guest if I didn’t offer my services just a little. Look, I already baked an apple turnover for dessert.”

 

Mary-Margaret leaned in to take a whiff. “That smells delicious! I can already tell it was a good idea to invite you over.”

 

“Well, I can’t take all the credit.” Regina smiled at Emma. “Your daughter practically forced me to come.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yes. Just pounded away at me until I finally gave in.” Regina shrugged. “Kids!”

 

“Well, I certainly appreciate the effort,” Mary-Margaret smiled a little off-key. “I don’t suppose you have a good recipe for salad? I haven’t even started on the greens yet.”

 

“One of my specialty dishes!” Regina exclaimed. “I’ll put in some extra cucumber, just the way Emma likes it.”

 

Emma resisted the urge to clear her throat.

 

Regina followed Mary-Margaret into the kitchen over the standard-issue apologies over the cleanliness of the house. Regina nodded and gushed supportively about how nice it all looked. Emma unconsciously flattened her black dress to her body and shifted her hips to better show off how it fit to her, earning herself some quickly lascivious glances from Regina when Mary-Margaret wasn’t looking. And when Emma wasn’t looking either, Regina slipped the can of pumpkin pie filling out of the pile of supplies on the island, hiding it neatly in her purse.

 

When she excused herself to make a phone call ten minutes later, no one noticed her putting it under the driver’s seat of Mary-Margaret’s minivan either.

 

***

 

“T-minus one hour,” Mary-Margaret announced, overjoyed with how things were coming together. The bread was in the oven, the eggs were in a pot of water on the stove, and the pies were cooling on the windowsill. For once, she might get through Thanksgiving without having to excuse herself every five minutes to check on her own cooking. “Okay, we have apple pie, pecan pie, cherry pie—wait, where’s the pumpkin pie?”

 

Emma looked up from the onions she was chopping and Regina stopped eying the wine.

 

“We have the crust,” Mary-Margaret’s face fell, “but not the filling. Where’s the filling? Emma, did you get the filling?”

 

“I’m sure Emma got filling,” Regina assured her. “It must be around here somewhere.”

 

“No, no, no time…” Mary-Margaret grabbed her keys. “I’m going to run to the store and grab some. Emma, you stay here, just take everything out of the oven when the timers ring and help Regina with the deviled eggs. Regina, I’m really sorry about this, I will be right back!”

 

“I’m sure you will,” Regina nodded. “Please, don’t worry about Emma, I’ll make sure she doesn’t snitch anything.”

 

“Oh, would you?” Mary-Margaret asked gratefully.

 

“I know how much she likes putting things in that mouth of hers.”

 

Mary-Margaret gave Emma a look. “I should’ve known you’d been eating out. I thought we were dieting together!”

 

“We are! It was—it was mostly just juices.”

 

“You’re lucky Thanksgiving is a carb cheat day.” Mary-Margaret pointed at Emma one last time. “Right back!”

 

And she hustled out the door.

 

Emma straightened her dress again as she listened to Mary-Margaret starting the van.

 

“That is a very becoming dress, Miss Blanchard.” Regina leaned against the counter.

 

“I like your pantsuit,” Emma said, staring at how it hugged Regina’s body. “My mom thinks they’re not ladylike, but you look so… powerful in them.”

 

“And you look very feminine in a black dress. My little tomboy is all grown up.”

 

Emma blushed and looked down. “You know, keep making jokes like you’re doing and my mom’s head’ll explode when we tell her the truth.”

 

“Oh, let me get it out of my system. She’ll find out soon enough.” Regina straightened. “Come on. I want you in the dining room.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Haven’t you ever heard that a watched pot never boils?” Regina sashayed out of the kitchen. With her ass swaying like that, how could Emma do anything but follow?

 

The dining room had been lovingly decluttered, vacuumed, and wiped down to a domestic sparkle. The long table had a clean tablecloth over its scarred wood, with candles and tablemats and everything else in place for a modern feast. Regina walked along its length, coming to the head of the table.

 

“Is this your father’s chair?” she asked, resting her hands on the rigid back.

 

“It’s his house. Every chair is my father’s chair.”

 

That made Regina smile. “Come here.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because it’ll make me happy. You like me when I’m happy, don’t you?”

 

Emma sauntered along the table. The other side from the one that Regina had come down. “I like you when you’re angry too,” she said, remembering her last spanking.

 

“You’ve never seen me angry.” Regina lightened, turning her attention to the sparkling water glasses, the gleaming silver utensils. “You really do have a good spread here. A beautiful spread. In fact,” Emma reached her, “I can only think of one spread that’s better-looking.” Regina pulled the chair out of the way. “Bend over.”

 

Part of Emma wanted to say one of the million reasons that was a bad idea. The other part, the larger part, said “Why?” because it wanted to hear Regina say it.

 

“Because I asked you to.” Regina leaned in. After a morning of smelling Mary-Margaret’s hearty cooking, Emma’s simple perfume was like a breath of fresh air. She kissed Emma’s lips and felt her blood start to boil. “Please.” She pulled back, feeling Emma’s exhale trailing after her. “There. I asked you nicely.”

 

Emma felt her spine bending like an iron filing to a magnet. She leaned over the table. “This is so wrong. Why can’t you just finger me in the bathroom, like a normal person?”

 

Regina smiled. “I’m not normal.” She unzipped the fly of her trousers. “I’m the Mayor.”

 

Emma looked over her shoulder. Her eyes widened. “C’mon, Regina, you really think you’re going to fit that in me before my mom gets back?”

 

“Firstly, it’s Thanksgiving. Any store your mother goes to will be practically brimming with people in her exact same situation. Second, I realize we’re under some time constrains, so I’m prepared to skimp on the foreplay.”

 

Emma laughed hysterically as Regina brought a turkey baster into view.

 

“Emma darling, if cranberry sauce isn’t your favorite part of Thanksgiving dinner, I can promise you it will be after today.”

 

***

 

Mary-Margaret drove a half-mile out to the closest grocery store, but the parking lot was a bloodbath. She was on her way to the next closest one when a motorcycle braked hard in front of her. She slammed on the brakes herself and a can of pumpkin pie filling rolled out from under her seat to rest against the gas pedal.

 

She picked it up and held the can to the light, just to make certain it was exactly what she needed. And it was.

 

“Fuck me,” she muttered.

 

***

 

Regina shoved Emma down right where the turkey would go, almost crushing the china dish underneath her. Emma tried to rise up, keep her hair out of the casserole, but Regina pressed her back down. Gave her just enough time to push the bowl out of the way before she jammed Emma’s face against the tablecloth’s nice gingham pattern.

 

Emma knew then that Regina wouldn’t be taking her slow and romantically like she had their first time and in the days leading up to Turkey Day. This was going to be hard and fast. Regina was the most disciplined person Emma had ever met; she was only doing this because she was starved for Emma, _gagging for her,_ and if all she could get was a quickie before eating, she would take it.

 

All of which turned Emma on. As did Regina flipping her dress up to the small of her back and ripping her panties down. “Fuck, Regina…” she breathed.

 

“No, no, no,” Regina said, like she was correcting an errant child. “The idea is ‘fuck Emma’.” Regina took a step closer, almost pressing their bodies together; most definitely letting the underside of her strap-on fall against Emma’s ass. The cold rubber made Emma shiver. “See?” Regina grabbed Emma by the hair, jerked her up by it, pinioned her in place for a crushing kiss. “See?” she asked once more, licking Emma’s sweet mouth.

 

“I see,” Emma panted.

 

“Then what are you waiting for?” And Regina took Emma’s hand, linked her fingers with it like they were no more than going for a walk in the park, and brought their hands together as one to her fake cock. Getting Emma a nice firm grip on it. Letting her twist it around until it was at her own entrance. “You want this.”

 

Emma nodded, maybe to herself. She tugged on Regina’s endowment until it was touching her; she didn’t tense up at all. Not with Regina.

 

Regina couldn’t resist anymore, with Emma making that face she did. She strained her pelvis forward, sinking the dildo halfway in, so fast it pushed some of the lubricant out of the way, had it rolling down Emma’s thighs. Emma pushing back got most of the rest of it in. Regina needn’t have worried that Emma wouldn’t be wet enough to take it. Emma always got wet for her.

 

The dildo’s eternal erection drove ruthlessly into Emma, only stopping when Regina was satisfied she’d had enough. Just enough pain to balance out the pleasure. She put her hand on Emma’s tailbone, through the satiny black of the dress, and ran it up her body. “This really is a nice dress.”

 

“I wore it for you,” Emma nearly sobbed. The relief she felt was that intense. The release from the pressure, pressure she only noticed when Regina was around but she couldn’t have her. “I hate dressing up, but I wanted to look good for my girlfriend.”

 

Regina’s smile contained multitudes. Her hand continued up Emma’s body, to her bare shoulder, to rub the soft flesh in soothing massage. “You succeeded.” The hand came down, around to the pliant weight of Emma’s breast. The nipple that had not yet been teased to hardness. Regina twisted it as she withdrew her cock, let it go as she drove herself back in. Emma’s wail was neither pain nor pleasure; just music to Regina’s ears.

 

“Please Regina…” Emma’s begging was not a game, not done for effect, not something she did for Regina’s benefit. It was genuine. The only genuine thing in the world Regina had created. “Please make me come, Regina, I know you can…”

 

Regina thrust in and out of Emma’s tormented cunt, not stopping until Emma was shuddering violently, rattling the spoons and forks, crimpling the tablecloth. She stopped only because Emma’s orgasm would not satisfy her. Not yet. “You have to ask nicely, Emma. It’s important to show good manners at the dinner table.”

 

Then she thrust in hard, solidly powerful thrusts that nearly shifted the entire table, knocked a glass over. “Oh my God!” Emma cried. She repeated it like she’d taken up prayer, and Regina thrust like she was answering it, Emma’s voice rising, speeding up, words blurring together as Regina fucked her, had her, owned her. And then stopped, suddenly, drawing the dildo out nearly to the head. Emma panted, somewhat in relief, mostly in disappointment. Again the closeness, the immense feeling of her orgasm bearing down on her, then abrupt nothingness, like clouds dispersing after threatening to rain. “Oh my God…”

 

“Well, at least you see me as an authority figure,” Regina said smugly, giving Emma a consolatory pat on the rump. “But that’s not quite the one I had in mind…”

 

Emma knew what she wanted to hear. “ _Mommy._ ” It no longer seemed wrong, or strange. It gave Regina pleasure. What could possibly be bad about that?

 

“Yes dear?”

 

Emma kneaded her hands in the tablecloth. “Make me come, mommy. Please?”

 

***

 

Mary-Margaret pulled to a stop in front of the house, happily cradling the pumpkin filling in her hand. Crisis averted. If this was the worst that the holiday could throw at her, it’d be the best Thanksgiving in years.

 

***

 

Regina bodily pulled Emma off the table, arms cinched around her waist, holding her up like a sexual plaything. Emma could only steeple her arms on the table and try to hold still under the onslaught, let Regina enjoy herself with her, because it felt so goddamn nice when Regina enjoyed herself. Her hair fell over her face like a veil, gnarled and damp with sweat, and her panting breath stirred it as if she were a billows that Regina was working, driving the air out of her with each exerted thrust.

 

Emma wasn’t coming and Regina wasn’t stopping, her strokes becoming harder, longer, faster, but never enough to finish Emma off. Emma’s orgasm hung over her like the boulder in Indiana Jones, just needing one little push to crush her into some very happy powder, but the push didn’t come. She begged. She pleaded for it. “Please, Mommy! Mommy! Fuck me, Mommy!”

 

***

 

Mary-Margaret opened the front door with one hand, tossed the can up and down with the other. Her embarrassment over her own boner with the pumpkin pie had faded, leaving just the relief of disaster prevention. The feast would be ready well ahead of time, thanks to Emma and Regina. She would have to single out the Mayor for praise. As the founder of the feast, no one was more thankful to have Regina there than her.

 

“Mommy!” Emma cried. “Mommy!”

 

“Emma?” Mary-Margaret replied, hurrying toward the dining room. Her daughter sounded like she was in pain.

 

***

 

Emma couldn’t hear her call. Emma couldn’t hear much of anything. Her pleas were now an unintelligible string of animalistic cries and tormented moans, whimpers, only the word “Mommy” discernible within. Through the haze of pleasure, Emma knew that word was good, was pure, was bringing her closer to the orgasm she felt growing like a fire all around her, its heat consuming her last. Each time Regina heard it, she went faster and harder, beyond all control now, giving her body free rein to demand all it could from Emma.

 

Her arms tightened like a taut rope, pulling Emma flush to her, close enough to growl in her ear. “Come,” she ordered, though it tasted like a plea of her own. “Come for mommy.”

 

Emma closed her watering eyes, saw colors swimming in front of them, heard a rushing in her ears, felt a scream building in her lungs. She let it out. “FUCK ME MOMMY!”

 

“Emma?” Mary-Margaret said. And though her voice was much softer now—barely a whisper—Emma heard every syllable of her own name as she looked up to see her mother staring at her, Mary’Margaret’s eyes almost as wide as her mouth after her jaw had dropped.

 

And then Regina thrust into her, once, with all her strength, angled to pull all her weight on Emma’s clit as she sunk into her right to the hilt. Emma couldn’t help it. Didn’t want to. Right before her mother’s eyes, her entire body tensed, knots upon knots of muscle, five endless seconds of her imploding like a black hole, before—release. An undulating pleasure through every inch of her. And the discovery that she was a squirter, as the warm rush of her juices fell like a waterfall onto the place setting at the head of the table.

 

It was quite possibly the best orgasm Emma had ever had.

 

Minutes passed. Emma tried to open her mouth to say something, but all she could do was gasp in air. Regina eased herself out of Emma, automatically rubbing her skin in support as she watched the expression settle on Mary-Margaret’s face like it was being tattooed there. The shock. The horror. And finally, the words.

 

“On the good china?” Mary-Margaret asked.

 

Then there came a knock at the front door.

 

“Oh, guests are here,” Regina said. She picked up the turkey baster. “I think I’d better clean this off.”


	34. Chapter 34

For about fifteen minutes, Thanksgiving went rather well. Despite her shock, Mary-Margaret was able to put herself on autopilot and guide her guests to their seats, now that Regina and Emma had left the table to tidy up. When they returned, the bulge of Regina’s strap-on still evident in her trousers now that Mary-Margaret knew to look for it, Mary-Margaret felt her heart stop beating. But Regina picked up the slack, cheerily greeting the dinner guests and wishing them well. Emma just took her seat and stared down—at her lap, coincidentally enough—but it seemed like she did that every year anyway.

 

Finally, Mary-Margaret took her seat. She wasn’t hungry—it felt like she was having an out-of-body experience, her entire consciousness divorced from petty concerns like breathing and eating. But she was able to sit down and close her eyes when Emma led them in prayer, the girl volunteering for once, as if that would score some points against what Mary-Margaret had just seen.

 

 _Fuck me, Mommy!_ No matter what Emma was saying, that was what Mary-Margaret heard. That absurd… that unbelievable… that blasphemous shout of hers as Regina… and her… and they…

 

Mary-Margaret’s head felt swollen, but still not big enough to store what she’d seen. What were Emma and Regina to each other? What was it they did? How long had they been doing it?

 

Most importantly, how had Mary-Margaret had no idea what was between them?

 

“Ms. Blanchard? Ms. Blanchard?” It took Mary-Margaret a moment to realize that was her name. She’d been so out of it that it’d seemed a stranger’s name, a hasty pseudonym. Regina was talking to her.

 

Thankfully, Regina hadn’t been saying anything when Mary-Margaret had walked in on them. There was nothing for her to hear besides the soft grunts she’d been making as she—with Emma. Who Mary-Margaret didn’t think she’d ever be able to listen to again without hearing those three damning words in her voice.

 

But the pressed, politician’s smile that Regina favored her with—it was in no way sincere enough to erase the memory of the look on her face. The ownership there, the fierce possessiveness, the monomaniacal _having._ Such greed and pleasure and smugness that it was almost… erotic, just seeing her expression. Her face as she fucked Mary-Margaret’s little girl.

 

“Yes?” Mary-Margaret replied, surprised her voice could be on autopilot too—no more real than a doll’s after its string was pulled.

 

“I just wanted to make a toast to the founder of the feast.” Regina picked up her wineglass. “Everything here is simply delectable—a testament to your skill as a hostess.”

 

“Thank you. It means a lot to hear you say that.”

 

“I look around,” Regina’s eyes shifted from Archie to Marco to Ruby, “and I see all these friends you’ve gathered, this family you’ve built—even your wonderful home—and I find myself wishing that I’d led a life a little more like yours. As nice as it is to have dinner with you, one still has to go to bed alone.”

 

Marco laughed off the maudlin note she’d struck. “Nonsense! Talk like that when you’re old as me! You’ve more than enough time to have all those things.”

 

Under the table, Regina’s bare foot was stroking Emma’s calf. “Perhaps you’re right.”

 

The words didn’t quite register with Mary-Margaret. Her head was swimming as she was in motion, like she was riding a roller coaster instead of simply standing up so hard that her chair fell over behind her. At once she was facing Regina, eyes blazing at her down the length of the table. “Get out! Get out of my house!”

 

Marco looked around, thinking for a moment she’d been talking to him—it was that unbelievable that Regina was the target.

 

Emma stood up as well, Regina’s foot rubbing briskly against her leg as she moved. “Mom!”

 

“Don’t!” Mary-Margaret wheeled on her, eyes now choked with tears, recrimination and anger pulling her face in different directions like a torture victim on the rack. “Not another word! Go to your room!”

 

“Mom, I’m eighteen!”

 

“ _Now!”_

Regina just sat there, calmly slipping her foot back into her shoe. Her look was that of the cat that got the cream. She took one last sip of wine to wash down her meal. “Well… I’m usually quite knowledgeable of when I’m not wanted… and there isn’t much doubt here.”

 

“Regina,” Emma said, like she was begging her for something. Regina just looked back at her, shaking her head.

 

“Out!” Mary-Margaret yelled. “All of you, out! Thanksgiving’s cancelled! Go home!”

 

The others fled quickly, but Regina took her time, gathering up her coat like she was expecting a curtain call. As she went to the door, she stopped beside Mary-Margaret.

 

“A shocking lack of hospitality,” she said in a low voice. “What _would_ your husband say?”

 

“I swear to God, Mills, if you come near my daughter again—“

 

“I think what you have to worry about is her coming near me,” Regina replied smoothly. “But I’ll understand if you need to discuss this in private,” she finished on her way out the door.

 

It shut behind her.

 

***

 

Regina felt like she had bathed in light. She passed through the car trip home like it was air and found herself in her parlor. Perfect home, perfect life, perfect revenge. All this time, there’d been a speck of doubt—a part of her that had feared disaster when Emma struggled on the hook, as any fish would. But now it was done. No last-minute escape, no nick-of-time reprieve. The split between mother and daughter was irrevocable. She had repaid Snow White in kind for the agony she’d suffered.

 

Now, as she had always claimed, Snow was where she belonged. In Cora’s position. The one finding her beloved daughter despoiled. And she’d react possessively, as she always did, as Cora did, as she had when her so-called stepmother had threatened to abandon her. But this time—in _this_ world—she wouldn’t get what she wanted. Here, the book was just a book. Here, Regina wrote the ending.

 

Regina and Emma were two of a kind. Too strong for her.

 

Regina moved to sit down—her legs felt weak—but she missed her chair and tumbled onto her ass. A full-throated laugh erupted from her. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered now. She’d won. She could even… even…

 

Regina pulled the ring from her finger. Its stone was off-center… a sign she’d been playing with it during the lost time between Mary-Margaret’s house and here. Usually, Regina didn’t let herself touch it; it’d been getting harder and harder for her to do so. She left it on like a slave’s collar, only reminded of its cool heft to her own pain. But now she felt permitted to touch it. She slipped it, with a sour difficulty, down her finger. After a moment, it slid easily. Came off in her hand. And she let herself look at the most important piece of magic she’d brought over—the most useless and the most important.

 

Daniel’s face. She’d been dreading this since she put the ring on that morning, but seeing him was like slipping into a warm bath. Painful for a moment, then soothing. Even so… She couldn’t take it anymore—she hugged the ring to her chest, not needing its image, because now she let herself remember. Not just her time with him, but the time she would’ve had if it hadn’t been stolen from her. Her hopes, her dreams—a home and a marriage and a real family, not the rickety framework of fear and pain she’d been born into.

 

As quickly as they’d come, the memories faded. She’d ripped the stitches of this wound enough to know it would never really heal, but it would stop bleeding quickly, and one day soon all that would be left would be a simple mark on her skin. Not angry red scar tissue, not an open would—just a white line. And now she knew to wear armor over where she was vulnerable.

 

Her breathing had left her control. She was crying, she was laughing, she was gasping for air as she forced her hand open, pried it like a lock. The ring stayed fixed in the vertical palm of her hand, its image flickering, but gravity couldn’t be resisted. It slipped from her hand, hit the floor and danced on the wooden boards for a moment before slipping into a small knothole. Lost but not gone. She could tear the boards up, she could burn the house down, and it would be in the ashes waiting for her. Or she could roll a carpet over the floorboards and let it stay on the foundation.

 

Because now she had armor. Not the armor that had served her so well, but a new kind. Lighter. Softer. She’d ripped away Snow White’s most precious treasure and melted it down into her own personal protection, her sanctuary. Her Emma, who would never let her be alone or hurt or scared ever again. The luckiest girl in the world, because she had Regina to watch over her.

 

To Regina, Emma was both friend and family, Daniel and the child they’d never had. She could love Emma as she’d never had the chance to love _him,_ and mentor her with love and care as Cora had never done for _her._ In time, there might even be children. There was no rush. Regina could stretch out their time into countless eternities, luxuriating in every moment of their relationship, spend immortality on every second of her youth and one more on every line as it formed on her perfect face.

 

And this time, Mary-Margaret would be the one on the outside looking in. No friends. No family. No happiness. Not only would she lose her happy ending, but she would watch as Regina lived it for her.

 

She’d thought she had known Regina. She had thought she knew what was best for her. Well, now she truly would _understand_ her. Her stepmother would teach her, just as she and her bastard father had wanted.

 

The doorbell rang. Regina knew without a shred of doubt who it was. She’d grown bored of this story, with its plotting and page-turning. Time for her happy ending.

 

When the door opened, Emma was crying, but she wasn’t sobbing as she once would’ve. She had learned from Regina, come to see tears as the weakness they were. And so it was with a clear voice that she said “You missed all the fireworks, Regina. Me and my mom, we uh… she wasn’t happy for me. She said she couldn’t even look at me, so I…”

 

With the tiniest nod, Regina gave her permission to come inside, into her embrace. “Shh… shhh…” But let Emma cry a little. Just so long as it was only for Regina. With Regina she could be weak, because Regina was her strength. “It’s not your fault. It’s hers. She won’t accept you and that is on her, never you.”

 

“What?” Emma asked, her hands tightening on Regina’s back.

 

“Well, think about it. If she’d found you with a boy, even an older man, would she really be so outraged as to throw you out of your own home? No. No, of course not. It’s because you’re different that she doesn’t accept you. But that’s okay. I’m different too.”

 

“You’re right…” Emma shook her head against Regina’s chest. “I never would’ve thought… she never seemed like…”

 

“She had your life all planned out,” Regina whispered tightly in Emma’s ear. “But she won’t tolerate what you want for yourself. Be strong, Emma. Don’t give into her. Take what you want.”

 

“I… I…” Emma looked up at Regina. Those big, blue eyes had never been so vulnerable. Regina saw herself reflected in them. Her confident, comforting smile. “Regina, can I stay with you?”

 

“Of course you can, Emma. Of course.” Regina closed the door with her foot. She’d had enough of broadcasting her victory to the world. From now on, it was hers and hers alone. She held Emma close and petted her gently and whispered in her ear, as soothing as medicine. “Don’t worry, Emma dear. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Emma's clothes found on the What Would Regina Wear? tumblr.

When Emma woke up and Regina wasn’t there, she very nearly thought the whole thing was a dream. A part of her wished for that, after her fight with Mary-Margaret. Finding out that her mother still thought of her as a child, who couldn’t possibly be sexual, gay, an adult. No, Regina must’ve _corrupted_ her—raped her even. And Mary-Margaret, so motherly and understanding, just wanting to get her help. Help! For being in love?

 

And there was Regina, acting like real family should. Letting Emma stay at her house and sleep in her bed. Letting her feel good instead of like shit.

 

As if summoned by Emma’s wistfully weary smile, Regina breezed into the room carrying a tray of food. She wore a dressing gown that looked more put-together than most people’s clothes. She set the tray down on Emma’s lap with a kiss to Emma’s forehead. “Good morning, beautiful. And how is my special girl feeling today?”

 

“Orphaned,” Emma replied.

 

“A good meal will have you feeling better. Eat up. I don’t make breakfast in bed for just anyone.”

 

Obligingly, Emma took a piece of toast. Regina sat down on the foot of the bed, elbow propped up on the bedpost, eyes watching Emma. She looked so _pleased_ with her. So happy just to have her in her bed, eating her food, breathing her air.

 

As Emma ate, Regina toyed with her toes. “I have a meeting I can’t get out of, but I don’t want you to be alone. I’ve called Ruby, she’s coming over for a playdate.”

 

“Cool,” Emma said between scrambled eggs. Regina was still staring at her. There seemed something a little… vehement about it. If it weren’t Regina, Emma might’ve mistaken that look for desperation. Or sadness. “Hey. Here.” She picked up her grapefruit and offered it to Regina.

 

“I’ve already eaten,” Regina demurred.

 

“Oh, a bowl of Kellogg’s? Live a little, Reggie. I hate eating alone.”

 

Regina quirked an eyebrow as she took Emma’s offering. “’Reggie’?”

 

“You should have a nickname. Now that we’re girlfriends or lovers or whatever. We need pet names for each other.”

 

“What could I possibly shorten Emma to? ‘Mm’?”

 

“Sounds porny. I like it.”

 

“No, no…” Regina sucked on the spoon that had transported a bit of grapefruit to her sumptuous mouth. “You’re my little swan.”

 

Emma nearly spat out her waffle. “Your what?”

 

Regina motioned for her to keep eating. “They mate for life… aggressively protect their nests… and during the reign of Elizabeth the First, they were considered a rare delicacy.”

 

“You mean… to eat?”

 

Regina got that _look_ in her eyes. “You can see how they remind me of you. Now shower and get dressed. If you’re going to be under my roof, I want you to wear something ever so slightly elegant.”

 

Emma finished her breakfast by cramming about a half-dozen pieces of bacon into her mouth, then obeyed Regina unthinkingly, hustling to the bathroom and the shower of the gods that Regina had erected there. She left the door open as she stripped, but couldn’t see Regina through it. Disappointing. She would’ve thought the Mayor would never get tired of seeing her naked. Even so, Emma hit the hot water and climbed into the shower. It revitalized her almost as much as her talk with Regina.

 

But as she ran Regina’s bar of soap over her body, the texture grittier than the brand Mary-Margaret bought, the high of Regina’s treatment wore off. She heard the distant echoes of all the things Mary-Margaret had said to her. “I raised a daughter who has sex on the table at Thanksgiving?” Maybe she was rights—things were moving fast with Regina. Faster than they ever had with Scott. For God’s sake, she’d had a threesome…

 

The pebbled-glass shower door sprung open and Emma saw Regina, immaculate in her gown, even more immaculate when she took it off. Smiling widely, Regina stepped under the shower spray with Emma.

 

“I just realized—I’m still hungry,” Regina announced.

 

And until the water ran cold, Emma knew nothing but pleasure.

 

Afterward, Regina dried her off with possibly the fluffiest towel ever invented, then took her to the walk-in closet to find some clothes that would fit. She helped her into a quickly but smartly chosen selection, whispering the names of the brands like erotic poetry.  A Luxe red roll sleeve shirt, Ultra Sheer Backseam pantyhose from HUE, Minuet Petite zip-back pencil skirt, and an Armani knotted suit jacket. Then she sat Emma down and braided her hair into a neat chignon. Emma never had to do anything for herself. Regina even applied her make-up for her. In a matter of minutes she was transformed from her usual awkward, somewhat butch self into Regina’s Mini-Me.

 

The Mayor kissed the back of Emma’s neck, Emma thinking it was the last spot left she could touch without ruining her work of art. “You look beautiful, my princess.”

 

“Thought I was your swan.”

 

Regina surprised her by wrapping her arms around Emma and squeezing her. “You’re my everything.” But when Emma looked in the mirror, the embrace hadn’t wrinkled her clothes at all.

 

The doorbell rang. Regina’s head swiveled. “That’ll be Ruby.” She scratched Emma’s neck soothingly as she spoke. “You two be good. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. But if you do, take pictures.”

 

***

 

As soon as Regina left, Ruby colonized her living room, dropping a plastic bag full of chips and beer onto the coffee table, then tuning Regina’s Blu-Ray player to Netflix Instant, adding about a dozen titles that she couldn’t believe Regina didn’t have on her queue. Mostly, she wanted to show off pictures of her girlfriend, all saved to her smartphone like mobile memories. Ruby and Belle throwing a miniature party at the library, feeding each other in Granny’s Diner, fishing at the wharf. No one seemed to mind they were gay.

 

“But hey, enough about _me.”_ Ruby hid her cell-phone and tossed Emma a beer. “Did you know Netflix has a forbidden love section? That’s what you need, a good love story. Let’s watch Romeo + Juliet. Vintage Leo.”

 

“But they die at the end.”

 

Ruby looked at her. “Dude… spoilers.”

 

Emma made it halfway through the movie, but when Ruby said “does she kinda look like the chick from Homeland?”, she couldn’t take anymore. “Hey, can I borrow your phone?”

 

“Yeah, sure.” Ruby handed it over. “Yours broken?”

 

“I didn’t grab it before—“

 

“Right.”

 

Ruby settled back into her seat as Emma went into the kitchen. Chrome cabinets and spotless cupboards and all the utensils nice and neat. It felt like a different culture than Mary-Margaret’s homely kitchen. A country hundreds of miles away.

 

She dialed her home. Mary-Margaret picked up in two rings. “Emma?”

 

She always knew. “Hey, mom.”

 

For a second, there was just breathing. “Emma, are you okay?”

 

“I’m fine. I’m at Regina’s.” More breathing. “Mom, I want to come home.”

 

“Of course, of course dear, I’ll be there to pick you up—“

 

“Not if… Mom, I’m sorry… but I need to know if you’re okay with this.”

 

A deep breath burnt the phone’s speaker. “I’m sorry for yelling at you. I’m _not_ sorry for my reaction to you and that woman’s… escapades. But I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

 

Emma’s legs couldn’t carry her. She sat down between the refrigerator and the dishwasher, sagging into the little safe space. “Mom, I’m gay. And I’m in love. It’s a part of me. If you don’t love that, then you don’t love me.”

 

“Of course I love you, honey, of course I—I won’t lie and say I’m _sure_ about your relationship with _Regina Mills._ But it’s your choice. You are my daughter, no matter who I love. And, oh… I wish I could be hugging you right now. This seems so impersonal.”

 

“That was the idea.” Fuck, she was crying. “I wish you knew how hard this was for me. I keep thinking there’s something I could say that’ll set you off.”

 

“There’s nothing you could say that would make me stop loving you. Nothing. Now just, please, come home. I don’t want you gone anymore.”

 

Emma wiped at the tears running down her cheeks. “And you’re not gonna… forbid me from seeing Regina or lock me in a tower or something?”

 

The breathing on the other end went on for a long minute, softly. Emma pictured Mary-Margaret holding the phone away from her face as she gathered herself up. “If she’s your girlfriend, she’s your girlfriend. Not quite who I imagined coming to Christmas dinner, but… as long as she’s not vegetarian.”

 

Emma sobbed a giggle. “No, she’s not.”

 

“Good. Then turkey’s still on the menu. I still have a lot of questions for her, but that’s between us. It has nothing to do with you.”

 

It felt like someone had been trying to crush her chest with rope and now they’d stopped. “Thank you, mommy. I love you.”

 

“I love you too, Emma. Do you need me to pick you up?”

 

“No. No, I’ll be there in a little while.”

 

“I’ll order some Chinese food. We can have a girls’ night in.”

 

Emma couldn’t bear to say goodbye. She just ended the phone and cried, cool lacquered tears of relief. It might’ve gone on for hours if she hadn’t heard Ruby’s phone ting with an e-mail.

 

She looked at it for no particular reason. Ruby had a Gmail app, opening to her e-mail from Belle. It was one of those Conversations, with the back and forth going ten entries deep. Seemed low for a love affair. On impulse, Emma checked the first e-mail. It was dated after Ruby had gotten back from her disappearing act.

 

Something twitched in Emma’s brain. One of those primordial instincts, like how babies are quiet around nursery mobiles because they remind them of birds of prey. Quickly, she searched Ruby’s account for Belle’s e-mail address. That conversation was the only place it showed up. Then she searched it for Belle’s name. Nothing before that e-mail.

 

Ruby’d said she and Belle were pen pals. How? Neither of them seemed the type to use snail-mail, yet it was like they’d never exchanged e-mails before Belle arrived in Storybrooke. Did Ruby have another e-mail account? If that was the case, why was she communicating with Belle on this e-mail account now? Was she—

 

“Hey, you done with that?” Ruby asked, walking through the kitchen to get to the pantry.

 

Emma quickly exited out of everything. “Yeah. You need it?”

 

“Thought I’d order pizza.”

 

***

 

They needn’t have bothered. Regina came home with frozen chicken cutlets, promising to garnish them within an inch of their life to make up for their supermarket origins. Groused about preservatives. Ruby suggested she had a thing for organic food. Regina told them in no uncertain terms to stay comfortable while she prepared dinner, and she’d be joining them in a few minutes once it was in the oven.

 

Emma hadn’t been watching the movies Ruby had played in a continuous stream in front of her face. She’d been thinking of what to say to Regina. Looking over to Ruby, she saw she’d fallen asleep, done in by guzzling all the beer down herself. Emma gave her a kiss on the cheek and went into the kitchen.

 

It felt warmer with Regina in it. The kitchen was cold on its own, but Regina was a slow flame, shining just a little light around. Emma watched her for a moment, as happy and bustling as Mary-Margaret ever was, just different. No AM talk show on the radio, no doing five things at once, just a single-minded focus.

 

“I love feeling you watch me,” Regina said, not looking up from the cookbook she was consulting. “It’s like the complete opposite of being alone. Being in the middle of a crowded room, but it’s all someone who loves you.”

 

Emma leaned against the doorway. “I love watching you. It’s like looking at someone really sexy.”

 

Regina gestured her in with the knife in her hand. “Come here. I’ll show you how to cut.”

 

“I can’t.”

 

Regina looked back at Emma, seeing how her face was lowered, scrunched up like she’d eaten something sour. She set the knife down and went to wash her hands.

 

“Regina, it’s nothing bad…” Emma insisted, taking a big step into the kitchen.

 

“Then say it.”

 

“I called my mom.” Regina shook her head, almost imperceptibly. “She’s sorry about blowing up at me and she understands our relationship.” Another little tremor went through Regina, twisting her head from right to left. “So… we don’t have to worry about her.”

 

“That’s great!” Regina said, facing Emma with a mayoral smile so bright it had to be fake. “But you’re staying here.” It wasn’t a question.

 

Emma had known Regina wouldn’t like this. Somehow she’d just known. “I think it’d be best for fences if I went back to my mom.”

 

“Best for fences?” Regina repeated.

 

“You know… mending fences?” Emma had to get out of the way as Regina went to wipe her hands on the towels hanging from the oven. “Maybe in a few months I can move in with you, for real this time. Putting my stuff in boxes and everything. I mean, we’ve never talked about living together—“

 

“We’re talking about it now.” Regina was shrill and cutting as an air-raid siren. “You’re leaving me.”

 

“No! I just want to get things back on track with my mom. She’s my mom!”

 

Dried, Regina flung the towel down onto the floor. “I don’t want you to go.”

 

“I don’t want to go either…”

 

“Then _don’t.”_

“It’s not that simple.”

 

“Isn’t it? I opened my home to you. I opened my…” Regina’s hands cinched on her waist, tightening like a corset. “I opened my _fucking_ life up, to let you in. I can do it, you know. I can find you a job and come home to cook dinner for the two of us. We can sleep in the same bed and wake up in each other’s arms. We can just be a normal couple. People do it all the time.”

 

“Maybe I’m not ready for that.”

 

Regina’s head turned slowly, mechanically, from left to right. A surveillance camera. Emma was standing in the corner of her vision, arms crossed, head tilting forward, silently begging her to say something. Regina’s hands dropped to her sides.

 

“I love you,” she said, like it was a secret.

 

Emma rushed in like water after the dam had broken, stopping an inch from Regina. “I love you too. Give me a week. Let me get things right with my mom, then you can come over and we can have a nice, ordinary dinner. She’ll see how amazing you are. She will!”

 

“You’re supposed to be mine. Not hers,” Regina muttered bitterly.

 

“I am yours. But she’s my mom.”

 

Regina closed her eyes and _shook,_ like her breath wouldn’t go into her lungs, wanted to escape her violent heart by going anywhere else in her body. A tiny sound ended up escaping. “Would you choose me over her?”

 

Emma looked down. Regina’s hands were balled into violent fists. She stroked the forearms corded with muscle, willing them to relax. “It depends on whether you're the kind of person who would ask me to choose you over my family.”

 

Then, like a spark finally coming from two sticks being rubbed together, Regina jolted forward to kiss Emma. Stopped almost as quickly. “Of course. Yes. What was I thinking? You must go back. I’ll drive you there.”

 

“Regina…” Emma said, worried.

 

“It’s fine,” Regina insisted, patting her upper arm. “She really does accept you, doesn’t she? Or she will, with time.”

 

Emma nodded desperately. “She will. Once she sees how happy you make me—there’s no way she couldn’t.”

 

“Because she’s your mother. She wants what’s best for you. And she’ll see that’s me. I’m what’s best.”

 

“You are.”

 

Regina let Emma hug her. Let her kiss her. She should’ve expected this—that Snow White’s famous compassion could extend from herself just enough to take in her spawn. All this time, she’d thought Mary-Margaret was like her own mother, all mothers. Capricious and cruel, piloting their children as an extension of their own legacy. Why else had no one saved her, unless Cora was the natural order of things? Why had all the brave knights and all the charming princes and all the wise kings not rescued her, _if Cora was not a good, loving mother?_

She shook and Emma held her tighter to keep her still, as if she still thought this had anything to do with _her._ It didn’t. It was Mary-Margaret. The woman really was… pure. Regina had taken everything from her and she now gave the last of it up with a smile. Because she was a hero. And even when she’d left the title to wither and die a world away, Regina was still the Evil Queen.

 

Well, _fine._ Let her and Emma be as perfect and as good and as _nice_ as they wanted to be. Let all of Regina’s corruption crash against them as the tide against the unvarnished rocks. Her plans had failed before, but she always won in the end. As she would now. Just a few more words to write in her happy ending.

 

It was time for Snow’s family to get what was coming to them.


	36. Chapter 36

Emma wasn’t thinking about her fight with Regina. Was it a fight? It was, wasn’t it? She wasn’t thinking about it. She went back another month on August’s Facebook timeline. Another week when he’d update three times a day. Another week. Another. The man was addicted to Farmville. So why hadn’t he posted anything in weeks?

 

Emma knew why.

 

No, she’s go back another month. Maybe if August hadn’t posted in July, it would mean… something.

 

Her phone rang, shaking across her desktop. She scooped it up. “Hello?”

 

“Emma Swan?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“This is Storybrooke General Hospital.”

 

***

 

Emma didn’t remember driving to the hospital, but she remembered arriving. The blur of automatic doors and neutrally colored hallways and understanding nurses. They wanted to know what she was looking for, but she knew exactly where she was going.

 

Emma didn’t even know what she was feeling. All she could think of was what her mother was going through. She couldn’t even imagine it. This all felt so unreal, like one of the stories from August’s book.

 

She found the hospital room, its number burned into her memory, and burst inside to see her mother spread out on the starchy hospital sheets, blue as the sky. And the man lying under them, his arms wrapped around Mary-Margaret, his smile disbelieving and overwhelmed and infectious.

 

“Dad,” Emma said, the word barely fitting in her mouth.

 

***

 

After that, she couldn’t speak, though her parents talked for hours. David didn’t believe how big Emma had gotten, how she’d changed. Emma just sat next to Mary-Margaret, hearing her and David go back and forth, her hand in her mother’s as a tightly gripped lifeline. It was unbelievable to look at David—see that impassive face changing, smiling, speaking. Like a statue come to life, he’d been asleep so long. And now… now she knew his voice really did sound like it did in her memories.

 

Emma started crying. Mary-Margaret hugged her and David hugged her and the three of them swayed together like an unsteady tower, just holding onto each other. It set off a feeling that burnt in Emma’s stomach and sent its warmth throughout her body, out into her memories. She kept crying, remembering long-forgotten times with her father. Everything that had slipped away she grabbed hold of. Sunday morning pancakes and learning to ride a bike and him carrying her around the yard.

 

And the strangest thing was that that burning warmth, the feeling of safety so intense that it nearly stung, it reminded her of Regina. Not the sex, not the seduction, but just being with Regina. Just watching those lips form words, those hands make gestures, those eyes meet hers. Regina was her family, as much as David and Mary-Margaret were. The only people in this world that could make her feel safe.

 

Finally, Emma stopped crying. David and Mary-Margaret hadn’t, but seeing her, they wiped their eyes.

 

“I have to go talk to the doctor,” Mary-Margaret said. “I’m sure you’ll want a little time alone. I’ll just—I’ll be right back.”

 

“Where would I go?” David asked. “You always find me.”

 

Mary-Margaret clutched her hands to her mouth, almost concealing the shocked, girlish giggle that popped out. She hurried off before a fresh wave of tears could consume her.

 

David ran his hand through Emma’s curls, both of them thinking about when it’d just been a little mop of boyishly short hair. “So, kiddo,” he said, “what do you want to talk about?”

 

“I’m gay,” shot out of her like a gun going off.

 

His eyebrows jumped. “Hmm. Okay. You couldn’t have told me who won the last few Superbowls first?”

 

“Daddy!”

 

“I haven’t been in a coma _that_ long, Emma. And I’ve gotta admit, when we saw you playing football with the boys and hanging up Xena posters, your mother and I considered we weren’t going to have grandkids the old-fashioned way. And we don’t care one bit, as long as you’re safe and happy.”

 

Emma laughed as she cried. A weight she hadn’t even known had been on her heart was gone now. “I’m dating the Mayor.”

 

“Who’s the mayor now?”

 

“Regina. Still.”

 

“Oh.” David nodded. “She’s cute.”

 

“ _Daddy!_ ”

 

“What? If my little girl has to date someone, might as well be a cutie.”

 

“Slightly more complicated than that, dad.”

 

“Well, does she make you happy?”

 

Emma just buried her face in David’s chest, too overwhelmed by his acceptance to keep going.

 

To admit to herself she didn’t yet have an answer.

 

***

 

Regina had picked out her favorite stallion for the day’s excursion. She owned most of the horses in the town’s stable, as well as the stable itself, and she tried not to play favorites. But something about Elliot convinced her that, were it possible for an animal to be affected by the Curse, he would’ve been a destrier back in the Enchanted Forest. Carrying a knight into battle.

 

Regina rode hard, barely keeping to the forest trail, urging Elliot on to the speeds he so often tried for. Most days he had to be reined in with a firm hand, but now Regina gave him practically free rein. They surged through the trees, their combined efforts keeping them from harm despite their reckless speed.

 

After the first few miles astride Elliot’s powerful back, bent over the horse’s proud neck, Regina released the reins in favor of holding to the silken mane of the beast, as Daniel had once taught her. She pressed her thighs firmly to Elliot’s sides, signaling her trust, her lack of control, and they _flew._

She was a hypocrite, bringing everyone to this new world of evil and possibility, yet clinging to the Enchanted Forest. At least, to its few fond memories. Let men ooh and aah over their automobiles. Regina was one for horses. No matter how one tried to break them, tame them, saddle them, in the end, they were in control and their respect had to be earned. Regina appreciated that.

 

An hour’s hard ride and Regina hadn’t tired, her body effortlessly absorbing the work of taking Elliot to full gallop, jumping fallen logs and bushes like they were nothing. It took her a long time to realize she was crying.

 

She brought Elliot to a stop, and though the stallion wouldn’t show it, he was relieved to take a break from the punishing ride. She got down, walked Elliot to a nearby stream, and let him drink. She herself gathered the water in her hands and splashed her face. Left her usual make-up on the riverbed. She tried to remember how she’d looked in the Enchanted Forest, her dark castle, and how her reflection then compared to this person looking up at her. This happy person she’d invented for the ages. Mayor Regina Mills.

 

“She’s yours,” Regina assured her reflection. “Emma _belongs_ to you.”

 

 _As much as you do to her,_ her reflection seemed to reply, with that smile ghosting her lips, that sparkle in her eye. The memory of Daniel came but didn’t linger. Before Emma, only he had made her so happy. Before Emma, only he had hurt her so.

 

She rode Elliot back at a relaxing cant, getting off a half-mile away from the stables to loosen Elliot’s girth and walk with him the rest of the way. The familiar steps of unsaddling Elliot were almost as calming as the ride. She ran the stirrups up, unbridled Elliot and put on his halter, undid the girth, took off the saddle and pad with a promise to herself to clean the dirty blanket. Naked, Elliot’s coat was dirty with saddle marks. Regina hitched him and went inside the stables to get a pail of water.

 

Emma was there.

 

Regina smiled at her. At least, it seemed like that was what her face was doing. It hurt more than it usually did. “Emma. I heard about your father. I can’t… say how happy I am for you.”

 

Emma was silent. She stared at Regina like she didn’t know what they were doing either.

 

“I need to take care of Elliot,” Regina said, anxious for an excuse to be in motion. A moving target. “Rode hard and put away wet,” she explained.

 

“One sympathizes,” Emma replied.

 

Regina laughed as she retrieved the pail, filled it with soapy water. Emma helped her without speaking, brushing flat the hair that Regina sponged wet. She wetted a cloth in the bucket and wiped down Elliot’s bridle, bit, and saddle as Regina checked and cleaned the horse’s hooves. Then she just watched as Regina exercised the stallion with a few back lifts.

 

Finally Elliot was in his stall, cooling out. Regina gave him some water and an apple.

 

“You’re not with David,” she said, watching herself and Emma in Elliot’s big black eyes.

 

“No. I’m here.”

 

“You should be with him. Mary-Margaret. Your family.” Regina turned to face her. God, she was beautiful. And sad. If only Regina could comfort her. “I can wait.”

 

Emma walked through the stable, boots crunching the dry straw, stopping at the gate to the pasture. She leaned on it, arms folded under her chin like she might fall asleep. “Why don’t you put the horses in the pasture?”

 

“I do, sometimes. Just not right now.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“It’s complicated.” Regina took off her riding jacket and equestrian helmet, folding the jacket over her right arm, dangling the helmet from her left hand. She felt foolish, powerless. She stood beside Emma at the gate and didn’t know what to do with her hands.

 

She ended up throwing the jacket over the gate and setting the helmet on a fence post. Emma looked at the minor messiness, at Regina in her blouse and Jodhpurs. The mayor sweating from the midday sun, a light mist that had formed after her cleaning at the stream.

 

Regina wondered if she was still Emma’s fantasy.

 

“The doctors don’t know how it happened. My dad. They said he was going to be in that bed forever. They’re calling this a miracle.”

 

“You deserve miracles,” Regina said simply.

 

“You’d know best.” Emma pushed herself off the gate, though her hands stayed on the metal bar she’d been leaning on. Her hands hung on like she was afraid of falling off the Earth.

 

Regina nodded. “You deserve to be happy. You and your mother. If anyone deserves to get someone back—someone who loves them…” She faltered. Her words tangled. “It might as well be you.”

 

Emma stared at the empty pasture, doing Regina the small favor of pretending not to notice the look on her face. The desperate, keening _need_ in her eyes that she could not put away.

 

“I give up,” Emma said.

 

“Emma?”

 

“I can’t figure out why you let him wake up.”

 

“Who? Your father?”

 

Finally, Emma looked at Regina. It was almost enough to make Regina wish she never would again. “I won’t blame you for lying; not any more than you already have. But it’s _boring.”_ She smiled hopelessly. “Why’d you give me my father back, your majesty?”


	37. Chapter 37

Emma laid in her father’s arms, just letting him hold onto her. It felt good, having someone who didn’t want to let her go. Who she _knew_ loved her, who could tell her. She didn’t have to figure him out.

 

“Emma… is everything okay?” David asked gently.

 

She shook her head. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not important. You’re _back._ Who cares about some—“ She waved her hand in the air, trying to name it.

 

“I want to hear about you. Tell me. Whatever it is.”

 

Emma buried herself deeper into his chest like she could make him into her armor. ”Did you ever find out something about Mary-Margaret that changed everything? Like, you thought she was _perfect_ one moment, then suddenly she’s…”

 

“Human?”

 

She rolled up eyes up at him. “Not what I’m talking about.”

 

“No, you’re talking about Mayor Mills—Regina.” David took on a distant look. “I voted for the other guy. This is gonna be awkward.”

 

She slapped at him. “I’m serious.”

 

“Yes, yes—you get that from your mother’s side of the family.” He rubbed at her back and his love for her felt impossibly _right._ Like Regina’s had, a long time ago. “Look, I know whatever it is, it all seems impossibly complicated and twisty and weird and no one on the planet has ever gone through what you’re going through. But the older you get, the more you realize it’s simple: Do you love her?”

 

Emma smiled mirthlessly. “She’s not the person I thought she was.”

 

“But do you love her?”

 

***

 

Emma stared at Regina, waiting for her to respond. Regina said nothing. She stood there, looking old and young and beautiful and terrible. Emma walked past her, almost wishing Regina would grab her, kiss her, tell her it was all a lie and there was a good explanation for everything. Regina couldn’t even touch her.

 

Emma sat on a bale of hay. “I asked you a question.”

 

Regina didn’t turn to look at her. Emma supposed she had made it easier for her, walking out of her sight. “I gave you your father back because I wanted you to be happy.”

 

“And you took him away because you wanted my mother to be unhappy. You wanted him to miss her, to miss _me._ To not _be there._ ”

 

Regina nodded.

 

“ _Say it!”_

Regina’s head swayed, trying to turn to Emma but not being able to, a jammed mechanism. “I took him away because he was Snow White’s. He made her happy. And she—I didn’t think she deserved to be happy.”

 

Emma sighed out a laugh. “And things have changed so much—“ she began sarcastically.

 

“I’ve changed.”

 

“How would I know? How can I trust anything you say?”

 

Regina’s lips parted, but nothing came out. Usually she was a river, sparking clean flowing water—witticisms, insights, jokes, complements, assurances—lies. Now, all dried up. “Come inside, please, I’ll tell you everything you want to know—“

 

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

 

Regina swayed as if struck. “Please, Emma—“

 

“Sit. Down.” Emma lowered her voice. “Before you fall down.”

 

Regina walked opposite Emma like a prisoner on death’s row. She slumped onto a bale of hay. Looking not regal or poised or invincible, but tired. She’d kept up a charade for eighteen years. Emma almost couldn’t imagine it. Lies upon lies upon lies.

 

“How’d you find out?” Regina asked. “You couldn’t have known all along.”

 

“Little things,” Emma said. “Things not adding up. Everything was too… convenient. Ruby going away, then coming back, Graham disappearing. But I didn’t know for sure until I started looking into you. I broke into your car, I checked your GPS. All the addresses you’re searched were easily explainable—except for a set of coordinates out in the woods.”

 

“August.”

 

“And the Mad Hatter.”

 

Regina’s eyes flashed with concern. “They’re dangerous. You could’ve been hurt—“

 

“I figured out the rules pretty quick. The Hatter did make a grab for me, but once I figured out he couldn’t get past the welcome mat, we had a pretty pleasant conversation.” Emma’s lips moved like they wanted to smile but had forgotten how. “You _actually_ kept Belle on ice so you could bust out someone to take Ruby off your hands. Are there more? Thousands of people in some underground bunker, just waiting for you to make them someone’s long-lost cousin?”

 

“Just Belle.” Regina’s voice was a croak. “She was the—the lover of an old enemy. One I dealt with long before your time. I saw she and Ruby were compatible and nature took its course. I just helped it along.” She looked up at Emma, _pleading._ “They are happy together, you know. Ruby was a _werewolf,_ she had _killed people,_ she remembered the taste of human flesh—now, she can just be a girl in love…”

 

“Regina Mills. The great humanitarian.” Emma spoke curtly. “You never loved me. It was all to get back at my _mother._ ”

 

“That is not true!” Regina was suddenly animated, spine straight, eyes blazing. “I love you. In whatever—sick, diseased way I’m able to, I do have feelings for you. It may have begun as a—“

 

“Yeah, yeah, I saw that movie too. ‘It started out as a bet, but I really do love you, Freddie Prinze Jr.’” Emma bowed her head, fluttering her hand over her neck. “Or… Rachael Leigh Cook. Whoever.”

 

“I thought I was going to be _alone.”_ Regina’s flame dwindled, but she stayed fixed on Emma. Challenging and contrite in a way that could only seem right for her. “I had Daniel, and then I had _nothing._ Only my rage and my pain, and those comforted me far more than anyone else ever bothered. And I hung onto them for too long. I let them become a part of me. For _decades,_ I was nothing but hatred and memory. Then there was you. And—you can’t understand this _change_ that’s happened. I see people in pain and I feel for them. I smile and it’s because I feel good. I remember what it’s like to be no more than someone’s wicked stepmother, and now I’m so much more. I’m a new person, Emma. Reborn.”

 

“I know,” Emma said gently. “I know.”

 

“I can undo it,” Regina said. She choked, but forced the words out. “I can break the Curse. Everyone goes back to who they were—you become a princess.”

 

“You go back to being the Evil Queen.”

 

“I am the Evil Queen,” Regina retorted, almost wistfully. Like someone would say they were an amputee. “I always will be. I’m just something else as well.”

 

“What?”

 

“Yours.”

 

Emma buried her head in her hands for a long moment before standing. “God. I’m so _fucking pissed at you._ This is like finding out I live in a town full of psychos and no one ever told me. The next-door neighbors have sliced people’s heads off and think thirteen-year-olds should be married off to fucking Prince Humperdink, they just don’t remember it, do they? Jefferson and Graham, they wanted me to kill you. Just put a pillow over your head while we were in bed and…” She couldn’t finish the thought. Her words exploded from her, not a controlled detonation, but a fire in a bomb factory. “ _You gave me my father back.”_

“Yes.”

 

“When I didn’t know you were the Evil Queen. When you couldn’t… _get_ anything out of it. You actually called off this vindictive obsession you have with my mom because you wanted me to be happy.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And you still _fucking took him away in the first place!”_ Emma paced, not sure where to go, how fast to run. She just couldn’t keep looking at Regina.

 

Regina stood—her eyes carefully trained on Emma, a locomotive on a broken track. “Emma, I love you.”

 

“You think I don’t know that? _I love you too.”_ Emma stopped, taking a long, shuddering breath. “Why do you think I came here? I’ve tried hating you. I’ve tried seeing you as this—fucking evil monster _that you were. You were!_ And then I remember you holding me, you kissing me, and I can’t—I can’t see any harm coming to you. I can’t _picture it in my mind._ I’d die if anything happened to you.”

 

Regina smiled, tears in her eyes, chest quaking, hands knitted together. Eighteen years she hadn’t cried. Then Emma had come into her life…

 

“What are you so happy about?” Emma snapped.

 

Regina spoke like she was casting a spell. Like her words were dangerous. “You love me.”

 

“I’ve always loved you,” Emma replied irritably.

 

“I was so sure that if you knew, you’d stand there while Snow took my head. I had nightmares.”

 

Emma stormed toward Regina, grabbed her by the shoulders, and embraced her.

 

“You’re a crazy fucking bitch, you know that? I’d never let anyone hurt you. You crazy fucking bitch.”

 

“Emma… Emma.” It was a plaintive, questioning sound. A demand. _Where do we go from here?_

Emma huffed out breath. She knew how Regina felt. All the anger she’d stored up, the pain, the heartache—it was all flowing out of her. None of it was as important as holding Regina in her arms.

 

She almost smiled. “Seduce me to the Dark Side. That’s your thing, right?”

 

“You can rule Storybrooke at my side; be young and beautiful forever.” Regina kissed Emma’s ear and pulled away. She wanted to see Emma’s face. She wanted to stare at it throughout eternity, starting now. “No one’s ever given me a chance before. Much less a second one.”

 

“A second chance. Not a third,” she said warningly. “And you have to help me.”

 

“Help me what?”

 

Emma still didn’t smile, but she rested her forehead against Regina’s like she was just too exhausted to. “Undo all the shit you’ve pulled. All these weird ironic punishments you came up with. We don’t have to give them their memories back, but we can make them happy. Like Ruby.”

 

“For you, anything.”

 

Emma groaned softly. “And take me to bed. Cuddle the shit out of me. I feel like I want to sleep for a fucking year.”

 

“Yes, dear. We’ll start with Jefferson and August—and I’ll put Graham’s heart back in first thing in the morning.”

 

Emma let out a shrill laugh. “ _God,_ do I even want to know?”

 

“He was the huntsman who wouldn’t kill your mother. I ripped his heart out and made him my butler.”

 

“Yeah? In the third grade, I glued a kid’s hand to his head while he was asleep.”

 

Regina kissed Emma once more, on the cheek, as hard as she dared. “Oh, we’re going to have fun.”

 

***

 

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Ruby asked.

 

Belle blushed nervously, butting her head into Ruby’s shoulder a few times, then pulled up her sundress. Ruby let out a little coo and knelt to remove Belle’s panties. They kissed once more, Ruby reminded Belle of the safe word, then circled around to the opposite end of the card table. She bent over it, completely nude—always more of an exhibitionist than Belle. Belle bent over it as well, facing Ruby, able to kiss her on the tip of her nose.

 

Heels clicked down the concrete floor, prompting Ruby to hide her joy. It didn’t take much acting for Belle to become fearful. Not with the riding crop whirring so menacingly.

 

Fear led to humiliation. As anxious as she was over the coming pain, she was even more ashamed of jutting out her bare ass like a streetwalker. She’d done it with Ruby, but Ruby always made her feel safe and loved and comfortable. This was dangerous.

 

Of course, if it was just like it was with Ruby, what was the point?

 

The riding crop touched her ass, and already tears crowded Belle’s eyes. Ruby gave her a quick, reassuring smile before she moaned in pleasured pain, her clit pinched from behind.

 

The riding crop’s touch went away. Belle imagined her mistress taking a stance, preparing for that first swing. But instead, the leather touched her lightly once more; teasing her. It stroked her tensed ass, the backs of her thighs, then the insides. Letting her wallow in the ignominy of her position. But by letting her feel it, she managed to process the apprehension, and she stopped crying. Ruby smiled, both at her peace and from the fingers that had started to delve between her legs.

 

Her mistress’s voice sounded at a remove. “Now that is just one beautiful ass. Yeah, I think it’s just too pretty to punish.”

 

Ruby pouted. “How come my ass is never too pretty to be whipped?”

 

And she felt a smack across her backside. “Because you’re naughtier than her,” her mistress said.

 

Belle, too, felt a hand on her ass, but this one far more pleasurable—rubbing and massaging her flesh like it really was just that beautiful. “But don’t think I’m forgetting how bad _you’ve_ been. Next time you misbehave, you’re getting punished twice as hard, even if I have to force myself to stripe that cute little ass of yours.”

 

“Yes mistress,” Belle keened obediently.

 

Another smack to Ruby’s ass. “And you are still going to get fucked. Both of you. Fucked so hard it’ll practically be a punishment in itself.”

 

“Yes mistress,” Ruby moaned, and she felt the warm gel dripping from the tip of the strap-on push, prod, _enter_ her.

 

Across from her, Belle bit her lip and made a soft wailing sound in her throat as she too was penetrated. A soft hand caressed her back, soothing her as she let go, tears running from her cheeks that Ruby kissed away. And a leather glove cuffed the back of Ruby’s neck, pinning her in place as both mistresses began to fuck their subs.

 

 _How am I doing?_ Emma mouthed to Regina.

 

Regina just smiled back at her. Proud as ever.


	38. Bonus

“You’re not nervous, are you?” Emma asked.

 

It was almost a fair question. Belle did look nervous, but also excited, like she was about to watch a horror movie or ride a roller coaster. Emma wondered, sitting in Regina’s parlor, which was more accurate.

 

The hostess herself sat in her wingbacked chair, sipping the tea she’d brought in and trying to be unintimidating. Ruby got off on that sort of thing, but her girlfriend was more shy, more unassuming. Behind the bold exterior, she was a powderpuff.

 

Finally, Belle shook her head.

 

“It’s okay to be nervous. Maybe you’re not entirely comfortable yet, even with Ruby—that’s fine. Right, Regina?”

 

Regina nodded behind the cup of tea she held in spidery fingers. “Intimacy takes time.”

 

“And now you want to do this,” Emma continued. “You want to do it, but you’re not sure you _can._ You think you can—you know _Ruby_ can—but you’re not sure. It’s hard to be sure in this place, isn’t it?”

 

Belle nodded slowly.

 

“The way I see it, you have two choices. Everyone here is going to enjoy themselves. So you can either go first… or you can go last. And you are our guest, and it is your first time with us, so why don’t you decide? First or last?”

 

Belle’s big, luminous eyes seemed to get wider and brighter as she thought it over. Her hand gave a tremor as she reached for her own cup of tea, but remarkably she held the saucer still as she brought it up to her mouth.

 

Belle spoke slowly too. “I don’t know… if I would like to watch Ruby do that, if I haven’t done it. If I go last, she would go before me, and I’d watch. And she’s so pretty, but… she’s mine. If I went first, then whether it’s good or bad, it’s over with. And when I watch Ruby, it’ll be like she did because I did it. Or we did it together or… Ruby, do you think I should go first?”

 

“I think you should touch yourself,” Ruby said bluntly. “I can touch you while you touch yourself. And Emma can help. It’ll be just like what we do together, only Emma’ll be there.”

 

“What about Regina?” Belle asked. Emma was surprised her voice didn’t crack.

 

“Regina can watch,” Emma said.

 

Regina angrily sipped her tea. It astonished Emma that Regina could do _that_ angrily, but she wasn’t so surprised that she didn’t shoot Regina an admonishing glance and then smile reassuringly at Belle.

 

“I just touch myself…” Belle said, turning the idea over with her voice. “And you two… help.”

 

She was willing, but Emma could hear the tension in her voice, unsure of just what she was getting into.

 

Emma got up, walked to the loveseat she was on, and sat down beside Belle with her most winning grin.

 

“I can tell you like the idea. Relax. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Just give us a minute. Close your eyes and pretend it’s just you and Ruby. When you open your eyes, it’ll be you and Ruby and me. Later, it’ll be Regina too. But if you don’t like what I’m doing, or what Ruby is doing, we’ll stop. Okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

Emma leaned over to her lips, kissing them lightly at first, just little kisses to ease her into it. She held herself back for a long moment, not allowing herself to lose herself into the kiss, not until she saw Belle’s hands rub hesitantly on her thighs. Then she leaned a little closer, and Belle’s chest brushed against hers.

 

The littlest contact could be wildfire. Emma felt lightning course through her, Belle’s body responding with little spasms of need, breathy intakes of air, tiny squirmings of her lips signaling momentary indecision before Belle kissed Emma again. No matter how unsure she was, she always kissed Emma again.

 

Emma kissed her back. As her mouth came down on Belle’s, she felt Belle’s lips relax and part, anticipating Emma’s tongue. Emma explored the wet warmth of her mouth, felt Belle suck at her tongue with more practiced skill than she would’ve expected. She and Ruby had been busy.

 

Emma felt Belle’s arms slip around her as she turned onto her side, facing Emma, her body pressing up against her. What Emma saw, though, was Ruby’s body slide up against Belle’s from behind, adding the heat of her flesh to their coupling.

 

Ruby was kissing Belle’s neck and shoulders hungrily, but Emma was lost in letting her tongue entwine with Belle’s, as lost as Belle was. It was only remembering how much Ruby and Belle cared for each other, how comforting Belle would find a dose of the familiar, that Emma pulled herself away and gave Ruby a clear shot at her girlfriend.

 

As she approached Regina, she glanced back and saw the two of them were in the kind of kiss that Belle never would’ve done in front of other people… if this were ten minutes ago.

 

“Your subs look like they’re having fun,” Regina said in a low voice, pouring some more tea for her.

 

“They’re not yours?” Emma teased.

 

“Oh no. This is entirely your doing. Ruby wanted to play again, with her new toy, but I left it up to you. _You_ talked Belle into this, _you_ put her at ease, and now you have her so turned on that it’s all Ruby can do to keep up.” Regina sipped her tea with a distinct look at the loveseat, prompting Emma to follow her gaze.

 

The happy couple was sixty-nining, Belle going as hard at Ruby as Ruby was at her. They made animal sounds of pleasure, both of them, so loud that Emma wondered if it was possible for lycanthropy to spread as an STD. Ruby didn’t seem like the dental dam type.

 

“They’re your pets,” Regina said. “Now let’s see if you know how to keep them happy.”

 

Emma looked at her lover. “You think I can do it, don’t you? You never would’ve let me if you didn’t think so.”

 

“You are becoming quite the top. But then, you have a good teacher.”

 

“And have you taught me enough to go in for a little… switch?”

 

Regina smiled at her. “Go dom the werewolf, dear. You have to start small.”

 

“Then stop thinking about how sexy I am and help me double-team this librarian.”

 

Regina stood up with an extravagantly long-suffering sigh. “So vulgar… I don’t know about you, but I intend to make love to one of this charming girl’s orifices while you do the same to another. Let’s try to be a little romantic about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I wasn't going to update this, but a generous supporter asked for a short story set in this universe, so here's a little snippet of what's going on in this particular Storybrooke...


End file.
